


Shadow Grove

by dizzy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Fake Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 66,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shadow Grove is in it's fourth season and ratings are starting to drop. Is Chris willing to do what it takes to help save the show, if what it takes means faking a relationship with the co-star he's already got complicated feelings about?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I could not be more grateful to [Mav](http://savvymavvy.tumblr.com), [Luckie](http://luckiedee.tumblr.com), and [Sarah](http://lovetheblazer.tumbr.com) for beta reading, and to [Trish](http://kobean.tumblr.com) for her brilliant manip work!
> 
> This fic is completed and will be updated once a day.

“Four years of my fucking _life_ on this fucking _show_.” Chris stalks around his trailer, tossing clothes aside, lifting up cushions of the couch.

His fingers close around the shape of his slim wireless phone charger. It’s exactly what he’s been ripping things apart looking for, but now that he’s found it there’s no sense of triumph. He just wants to throw it across the room. 

He slots it place against his phone and hears the faint beep that says it’s refilling his battery. He has to shove the couch cushion back in place before he can drop down onto it, groaning. 

“So,” Alla says. “Tell me how you really feel.” 

“Paris for - how long?” 

“Not long, not long,” Alla promises. 

“Then Vancouver for filming again, then Los Angeles for that festival, then what - straight into filming the movie? And that’ll be my whole summer? And then if we get season five it goes right into that.” Chris has to laugh. He _has_ to laugh, or else he’ll cry. “I was so close to being out.” 

“Honey, you do not want out, and you know it,” Alla says, kind but firm. “Out means unemployed. This is the easy part, sweetness. As hard as it may be to believe right now.” 

“I know.” He quiets, his rage not lifting but settling, ruffled feathers smoothing back into place. He’s not stupid with his money but also used to a certain amount of financial freedom that’s come with the regular hefty paychecks he’s had for the past four years. He’s also put a lot toward substantial items: the house for his parents, his own house in Los Angeles. “I could really start writing again. Sell the L.A. place and move somewhere cheaper with the money. Buy a typewriter and start a garden.” 

“Christopher,” she says, and he can just see the pinched look to her face. “You know you’re always free to write, but-” 

_But._

But he’s just not _that good_. 

His books never made any bestsellers lists before the show, and he never made enough from publishing advances to even remotely live on. He could barely feed his _cat_ on those first royalty checks. 

His fans unearthed those children’s stories he wrote in his early twenties, but it cheapens the moderate success to know that it only comes because they like him on a television show. They aren’t connecting with his characters, they’re just using it to try and forge another connection to _him_. 

He didn’t let that really stop him from writing, though. He kept at it right until he got the role of Aiden and suddenly his life was so busy with the glamorous (frustrating) life of the lead on one of ‘television’s most groundbreaking series’ - which is really just critic review bullshit for _that sci-fi show with the gay dudes that actually isn’t half bad_. 

“I really have to do this?” Chris asks, finally, letting the rest of it go.

Alla laughs at him. “You’re the only client I have that acts like a trip to Paris is some kind of punishment.” 

It takes someone like Alla, someone that knows him well enough to ignore his reluctance, to ever get him moving anywhere. If Chris had his way he’d go home to his little apartment and his cat every single night. 

“And he’s the only other person going? They couldn’t get Jenna? Or Becca? Or Kevin?” Chris makes himself stop listing names, because he’s aware that he could literally go through every other cast or crew member and still want to travel with them more than he does Darren. 

“You know you and Darren are the ones that everyone wants right now,” Alla says. “And - there’s one more thing, about that.” 

Chris groans. “Of course there is.” 

“There are more rumors about fighting on set. We need you and Darren to seem.. friendly,” Alla says, clearly picking her words carefully. 

Chris sinks back into his seat. “But we aren’t even fighting. We don’t… fight.” 

And it’s true. He may have his issues with Darren, and he’s sure Darren bitches plenty about Chris, and sometimes that tension they’re celebrated for has a little too much of a friction-edge… but they don’t _fight_. 

“But we need a front of solidarity right now,” Alla says. “And the more fans are on our side, the better our chances. Like it or not, sweetness, you’re the hot ticket - you and Darren.” 

“So what does this whole thing entail?” Chris asks. 

“We’ll set up a couple of dinners, maybe go see some music. You’re in Paris together, you’re hanging out, you’re friends. It won’t be too much,” she promises. 

Chris makes a face at his phone. “Fine, when do I leave?” 

“You have enough time to go pack a bag and make it to the airport. I just emailed you the itinerary.” There’s a muffled voice in the background and Chris can tell that Alla isn’t really listening to him anymore. 

He tries one last time. “What about-” 

“I’ll send your assistant for Moxie,” Alla says. “Don’t worry about it. The precious little kitty will not go hungry.” 

Chris wants to roll his eyes, but he can’t deny that was going to be his next question. “Fine.” 

“Call me if you have any questions!” Her voice is forcefully cheerful as she says goodbye, then hangs up before he can argue any more. 

* 

Chris has the layout of the Vancouver airport memorized. Four years worth of walking down the same path to one identical waiting area of the next, four years of hearing the same recorded messages. He can practically greet the security checkers by name, and half the baristas have his order memorized. 

It’s half past eight when he walks into the VIP passenger lounge with his double chocolate chip frap in hand, a pre-flight indulgence that he’ll work off at the gym… later. Some other time. His level of caring is low at the moment. 

Darren’s already there, head bopping along to something playing so loudly in his earbuds that Chris can almost make out what song it is. 

Chris rolls his eyes. Of course Darren wouldn’t care who else he interrupts with his music. He sits far enough away that Darren won’t notice him and pulls his tablet out of his bag, busying himself checking email until the loudspeaker announces that boarding for his flight is about to begin. 

He looks over at Darren, but Darren has apparently moved past being lost in his music and onto being dead asleep. For one petty moment, Chris considers actually leaving him there to miss the flight, but that would just prolong the trip and fuck himself over in the process. 

So he hitches his carry on over his shoulder and walks over to Darren, nudging Darren’s leg with his foot. Darren’s mouth drops open and he lets out a little snore. 

Chris huffs and puts a hand on his hip, then pushes Darren’s leg a little harder. 

Nothing. 

He does it one more time, some of his irritation seeping out into the gesture. Darren yelps awake and immediately pulls his leg up to him, rubbing the spot Chris just kicked. “What was that for!” 

“Flight’s boarding,” Chris says. 

“Oh.” Darren rubs his eyes. One earbud dangles loose, song still blaring. “Right. Thanks, I think?” 

“Sure.” Chris shrugs and walks away. 

* 

They’re in first class on a mostly empty flight. 

It should be easy to ignore each other, but. 

But- _Darren._

Darren is the kind of guy that gets itchy under the skin if he goes more than ten minutes without hearing the sound of his own voice, and if at all possible he likes to make sure there’s an audience hearing it, too. 

That’s why Chris isn’t remotely surprised when Darren drops down into the seat beside him. “Hey, so. What’s the plan for Paris, anyway?” 

Chris makes a point of removing his headphones and pausing the movie he’d been watching. “I don’t know,” he says. “Something about an interview.” 

“An interview that’ll take a week?” Darren asks. 

Chris’s head jerks around to look at him in disbelief. “What? _A week?_ ” 

Darren holds up his hands in a ‘don’t shoot the messenger’ gesture. “That’s what I was told, man. What, didn’t pack enough undies? The hotel will totally get some for you - I’ve been there. More than once.” 

“Of course you have.” Chris rolls his eyes. “I just - I didn’t know it would be this long.” 

“Yeah, I’m guessing Alla figured you’d bolt if she said you’d be away that long?” Darren nudges his arm a little. “That chick _totally_ has your number.” 

“Like Michael doesn’t have yours,” Chris says. “Let me guess - he set you up with some ‘sweet ass seats’ to a few shows while we’re in town?” 

Darren’s grin is unapologetic. “He knows the right offers to make to grease the wheels.” 

“Or you’re just _easy_ ,” Chris shoots back. 

“Ouch. I’m wounded, Colfer.” Darren puts a hand over his heart. 

“I’m sorry, did I impugn your virtue?” Chris asks. 

Darren can’t even make it through a response without cracking up. “Dude, I’m pretty sure nothing remotely virtuous about me survived my twenties.” 

“I’m surprised you can even remember back that far.” 

“Fuck you!” Darren laughs. “Are you even in your twenties yet?” 

“Fuck you,” Chris says right back. “I’m just still waiting on some parts of me to catch up - oh my god, I meant _my voice_ , stop that-” 

He reaches out and shoves at Darren, but Darren just shoves back. And this… this is how it always seems to be between them, this is part of exactly _why_ Chris doesn’t like Darren. 

Because Darren is likeable. He’s so, so likeable. Five minutes in his presence and the tension just melts away from Chris, and it would be nice, except - except that everyone is like this around Darren. If he were a superhero, this would be his special power. 

He’s lovable. He’s well loved, and he makes a person feel like they are his entire world. 

But they aren’t. Chris has known him for far too long, and he understands that beneath the easy exterior is a man who wanted to be famous and _needed_ to be loved and isn’t afraid to use his charm as a weapon when he needs to. 

They all play to their strengths, but with strengths come weaknesses, too. 

Chris has seen so many people fall hard and fast for Darren and then get left behind, forgotten in an instant when someone newer or shinier or more powerful crosses Darren’s path. 

He’s watched Darren fuck his way through the cast and crew. He breaks hearts and then repairs them only to break them again in a different way. The people that hold it against him end up replaced more often than not - that poor actress so early in season one, the one that Darren had the highly public fling with and then… 

Written off the show, like it was nothing. Her own request, sure, but… Chris knows why she left. He knows because he’s the one that handed her tissues and rubbed her back while she sobbed out how much in love with Darren she was and how she just couldn’t imagine having to come to set every day and look at his face. 

Chris feels sad for anyone who ever thinks they have a shot at having all of someone like Darren. They couldn’t even if they wanted to - even if he tried. Chris imagines the best parts of Darren are probably mostly facade, like they’d disappear into vapor the minute you tried to really get a grasp on them. 

Darren is great at projecting what he wants people to think of him at people. 

Darren is an actor, and he’s good at what he does. 

Chris is good at what he does, too - and they’re good together. The natural chemistry is there, and they can manipulate it to fit exactly what they need to appear to be in any given situation. 

They work together well, and sometimes Chris hates that, too. 

*

Darren sleeps most of the flight. 

That actually is one of the qualities Chris both envies and enjoys about him - his ability to sleep anywhere and everywhere. It's a struggle every night for Chris, has been since his teenage years. No amount of herbal remedy or sleeping pill or nightcap can wear him out, nothing short of sheer exhaustion and even that sleep is tempered by tossing and turning. 

On set Darren can go and go and go for hours, long past when Chris is dragging his feet and slurring his words. When Darren does get tired, he can find a few minutes of rest anywhere. There's a whole bulletin board full of pictures printed out by cast and crew members from cell phone shots of him sleeping under tables, in dark wardrobe closets, tucked against the wall in a hallway. Once he even made use of the passenger seat of the catering truck on location. 

While Darren sleeps, Chris writes. 

For a while he tried to stop. After his books were a flop and even freelance work became spotty, he wanted to be angry enough at the simple fact that he wasn't good enough but it didn't take him all that long to realize that he's kind of writing's bitch. He's like an addict, twitchy and head stuffed overly full of emotion and phrases and feelings if he doesn't let them spill out one way or the other. He decided writing was at least a better alternative than rambling drunkenly into his ex-boyfriend's voice-mail at two am on a Wednesday. 

He's written a book a year at least since he was in his twenties. He got published twice in his early twenties with a vague promise of more that never came to anything when the first two didn’t sell. When he got the show, those two were re-released with new covers and a huge glossy picture of him on the back. The publisher came back to him with a much sweeter contract and a deal for more. He’d already had the last three books in that series written, so he’d blown the dust off of them and done one a year for the first three seasons of the show.

When he started writing his new series, he’d shopped it around under false names first. No one was going to buy it without his name attached, and since his publishing company was willing to sign a new five-book deal without even seeing the first manuscript, he took it. No one in his management team was going to let him turn down that money. Financial security is a luxury he’s making the most of, but he wants his works read because of their content... not the name of a tv show in the back cover blurb under a glossy full color photo of his smiling and highly recognizable face. 

Hours pass by and the playlist he likes for flying loops over a fourth time. His legs ache from being so cramped and his stomach growls. Why didn't he bring snacks? Not enough time, not enough of a plan. 

Days like this... they're his least favorite. 

* 

Hour nine and he's finally shut the laptop and put it away. His eyes ache and his head feels heavy. He shifts to get as comfortable as he can but no position is quite right. The pillow bunches awkwardly under his head, too thin when not folded and too thick when doubled up. Turn this way, turn that way, grunt and tense and relax and try, try again, because what else can he even do? 

"Hey," Darren's voice whispers, cutting through the blur of almost-sleep. "Here." 

Chris jerks his head a little and recoils from a touch on his arm. "What-" 

"Sorry, sorry," Darren mutters, but genuinely. "Take my pillow. It's one of those memory foam things, it’s comfortable" 

"Aren't you using it?" Chris asks. 

"Dude, I just slept for eight hours, I'm good to go. Here." Darren shoves it at him again and Chris sighs, taking it. 

Darren doesn't take no for an answer very well, especially not when what he's trying to do is to benefit someone else. It sounds like a wonderful quality in a person on paper, but in reality it can just be infuriating more often than not. 

The pillow does feel good, though. Chris relaxes back against it with a sigh. "Thank you," he says, not even bothering to open his eyes again. 

If he had, he might have caught the peculiar way Darren was smiling at him. 

* 

At least the network puts them up in acceptable digs. The Dorchester might not have the comforts of home, but it has a few comforts that home doesn't have. He sighs happily at the sight of a hot tub tucked into the corner of the room, at the king sized bed and complimentary snack basket, the bottle of wine chilling in a bucket of ice, the fancy letter with Mr. Chris Colfer in gold foil on the envelope. 

The Parisians do know how to treat a fellow right. At least the ones being paid handsomely by the powers that be in television. 

He kicks his shoes off and drops down onto the bed. They've got the rest of the day and half the next to rest up. According to the itinerary Alla emailed - the real one that came mid-flight, long past when he could conceivably put his foot down and say no - there's an interview and a photoshoot for a European magazine and then she'll be joining him the day after that when he and Darren have a couple of radio interviews lined up. 

There's more, he's sure - more she's not telling him, which sets off every alarm bell in his head. He's afraid it'll be another one of those risque photoshoots. They haven't been pushed into anything like that since sweeps week during season two, as part of the build up to Bay and Aiden's first kiss. 

He still cringes every time he has to sign one of those. He knows that the fans ate those pictures up, the coy and flirty ones, Darren with his shirt off and Chris looming darkly around him... 

It's not like they don't do more on the actual show, but he can pull a diva act and demand a closed set there, he can pretend that once the scene is in the can it ceases to exist. 

He doesn't even watch the screenings with the rest of the cast. He shows up to say hi, makes sure his absence won't be reported, and then slips out before the episodes even begin. To this day the only Shadow Grove episodes he's seen were the ones the network executives showed up to that he wasn't allowed to squirm out of. 

Darren's at every screener, of course. Bright and early, all smiles. Darren's the go-to guy for promoting them.

It's not like Chris hates the show, though. He devours the scripts, and he gets a huge kick out of reading the social networks and blogs to see where fans think the show is heading next. He loves those mornings after an episode airs when everyone is still in an uproar about the creative genius of the show and how the rug keeps getting pulled out from under them. Chris is proud of being a part of intelligent, innovative television - he's just fucking terrified of the fans of his fictional relationship. They’re a whole different breed. Eardrum piercing, invasive question asking, nonstop photograph taking, _entirely too fucking perceptive for their own good_ obsessive mostly younger guys and girls that seem to dog his every step and haunt his nightmares. 

So Chris is more than happy to talk about the complexities of a science fiction conspiracy plot. He'll field those like a champ and when someone inevitably asks about the phenomena that is "Bayden" he'll pass them right off to Darren. 

* 

Chris has a lot of least favorite parts about being in show business. 

Press is one of his most least favorite parts, though. 

He shows up at the start of the day, twenty minutes early with an ice cold drink in hand and a deep desire to be anywhere but where he is. He’s got all the expected bells and whistles in place. Outfit chosen with care for potential photographs, hair done - but it’s never quite as good when he has to do it himself, but the attempt is there.

Darren rolls in twenty minutes late in a t-shirt that looks like he slept in it and a serious case of bedhead. 

He’s gorgeous, of course. Chris is mostly immune to Darren’s attractiveness, a tolerance built up through sheer constant exposure, but he’s not blind. If Chris tried to get away with the amount of laziness Darren did, he’d be regarded as one of Hollywood’s legendary hot messes, but Darren - he makes it work. 

“They got grub anywhere?” Darren asks Chris, looking around. 

They don’t, but a girl materializes seemingly out of nowhere and within two minutes she’s leaving with a list of what Darren wants for breakfast. 

Darren’s order - and just Darren’s order. 

“That must be nice,” Chris mutters. 

“Oh, shit. Did you want anything?” Darren turns those eyes, widened with sincerity, on Chris. It bothers Chris that he can’t even tell if it’s an act or not. “I can call her back maybe, or we could find someone else-” 

“No.” Chris doesn’t snap, but it takes effort. “It’s fine. I’ll just wait and eat lunch, like a normal person.” 

Darren looks like he might be going to say something, and then he just shrugs. “If you say so.” 

*

It’s almost hilarious how quickly they can turn it off and on with each other. 

As soon as the camera starts to roll, they switch into gear. Bantering, tossing answers back and forth, finishing each other’s sentences, even pushing that thin line of character bleed with a little flirtation. 

That’ll cost Chris a few weeks of his sanity on the internet, but the older he gets the better he handles it. That he’s an out gay man and Darren is an unashamed bisexual mean that there’s been speculation since the very start. 

But Darren was also dating someone off and on since the very start. When he wasn’t with her he had a steady stream of flings and flirtatious encounters, so the rumors never got too far off the ground except with a small section of very dedicated and over-eager fans. 

Chris never actually asked Darren what went down in that relationship. One day he was seeing her show up on set and the next day it was splashed over all the headlines that she’d married that bandmate of hers. 

He tries to keep his nose out of set gossip as much as he can, but he’s heard whispers. Becca and Kevin would disappear into Darren’s trailer more afternoons than not for a while. He remembers with a stifled sense of bitterness being able to hear the laughter and music float out from the windows as he’d walk past to his own trailer. 

Not feeling left out. Of course not. Why would he? If he’d wanted to be a part of that-

He _doesn’t_ want to be a part of that. His breaks on set are better spent working on… well, stuff that no one else on set really gives a fuck about. 

He’s having some publisher issues lately so he’s been trying to take a break from his next novel to try writing a screenplay. His agent has agreed to try and shop some scripts around if he gets them written. Screenwriting isn’t novel writing; he could have his shot there. 

“Hey.” Darren elbows him. “Back to earth with us mere mortals?” 

Chris realizes he’d been daydreaming. “Sorry,” he mutters, trying to clear his minds of the errant thoughts. “Who’s up next?” 

“Fuck if I know,” Darren says, but the moment the interviewer is settled in front of him he’s practically gushing compliments. He asks her about her day and how the weather is and if she knows of any good places to eat and god Chris could never. He could never in his life look at someone he’s just met and make them think they’re his best friend. 

*

Chris loves London. He loves the drizzle and the rain, the history, the associations the city has to things that are so ingrained into who he is. He loves Denmark, Germany, the homes of fairy tales and good food. He loves the tropical beach cities for the pampering that they represent, and the snowy mountain ranges perfect for curling up and writing. He loves places that inspire him and stoke that passion for life and learning inside of him. 

All Paris evokes is the urge to punch someone. He doesn't like Paris, and he never has. (Well, that’s a lie. Maybe he did once upon a time when he thought Paris was just this wonderland that everyone went to when they were happy and in love. But the first time he visited Paris he got too drunk on cheap champagne and had a one night stand with a guy he can’t even picture anymore, so now Paris just feels like disillusionment to him.) 

He can’t find it in him to muster passion for anything. Darren leaves their next round of interviews for a dinner with some friends the following day. The day after that is their photoshoot for the magazine spread, and Darren can’t stop talking about the concert he’s going to see that night.

Darren’s manager is with him, so it’s not like Darren really needs him for conversation or company. He logs a lot of quality hours in the outrageous bath in his room and even more writing. 

Then comes the point where he can’t ignore Darren anymore. As per his grudging agreement, they have dinner reservations at some overpriced restaurant named after some smug, egotistical chef who will likely tut around them making sure the VIPs are pleased with the offering enough to pose for a picture for his 'private collection' before they leave. 

Darren takes one look at him and says, "Lighten up. That's an order." 

Chris rolls his eyes. "I don't like French food." 

"I know," Darren says, and hands Chris a bag. 

Chris opens it up and looks inside. There's a mouth-wateringly perfect croissant. 

"It's chocolate," Darren adds. He's grinning when Chris looks back up. 

Chris hates French food, but god does he love French pastry. "You're bribing me into compliance." 

"No, I'm buttering you up so maybe we can enjoy ourselves tonight," Darren says. 

Chris would definitely have sharp words for him, if he could say anything around the blissful bite of deliciously light buttery croissant and smooth dark chocolate he's just taken. 

"Right, then," Darren says, offering Chris his arm. "Shall we?" 

Chris gingerly takes Darren's arm. 

* 

Dinner is a mostly silent affair. 

Darren's on his phone for most of it. Chris pulls his own out just to act like he has half the people wanting to be in constant contact with him as Darren does. Really, he spends fifteen minutes trying to beat the next level in a game he's addicted to before scrolling through a gossip site instead. 

He snickers when he passes an article about Darren. 

Darren looks up, curious. "What?" 

"Oh, nothing," Chris says. "Someone just said something funny." 

"... okay," Darren says, eyebrows knitting together momentarily. He looks down at his phone but only for a moment more before he pointedly puts it on the table. "Champagne's pretty good." 

"I'm sure it is." Chris has barely touched his glass. 

"Come on." Darren reaches for the bottle, resting in its ice bucket beside them. He tops off his own. "You have to try it." 

"I tried it," Chris says. 

"You couldn't have even tasted it like that." Darren pushes the flute toward him. "Seriously, that didn't even count as a sip." 

Darren pushes again. The champagne sloshes over the edge and one drip rolls down the side of the glass. 

Chris rolls his eyes, then picks it up and downs the entire thing. It's bubbly and a little too dry for his liking, but it warms him up in a flush that twists over his chest pleasantly.

"That's how you do it." Darren laughs, and then refills him. 

Chris doesn't complain this time. 

Once the food arrives, they've all but finished the bottle between them. There still isn't much conversation but occasionally their eyes will meet and they'll share a moment of mutual ridicule at the situation that they're in. 

"You know what would make this better?" Chris asks, stabbing at his veal, a hapless victim to circumstance of being on his plate. 

"What?" Darren doesn't seem to have any issues with his lobster. He's already licking butter from his fingers. 

"If it was pizza." Chris grins down at his plate when Darren barks out a surprised laugh. 

"I wonder if you could get them to make you a pizza here..." 

"I'd be horrified of what they'd put on it," Chris says. "Prawn-head and leek on a foie gras infused crust." 

"I'll take Chicago deep dish, thanks." Darren makes a grossed out face. "But dude, do you really not like this? Because it's pretty fucking awesome food." 

"It's fine," Chris admits. "I just don't like... this." 

He gestures his hand around. The walls are intricate and decorated in gold, the chandeliers heavy and ornate. Everything speaks of money and privilege. 

Chris enjoys the perks that his network television paycheck bring him, but only on his own terms.

“I get it,” Darren says, looking around. “So why don’t we blow it off?” 

“What?” Chris asks. 

“Come on.” Darren grins at him. “We can go raid a patisserie. I know you, Colfer. You can murder some desserts when you want to.” 

“Okay,” Chris says, but first he grabs the bottle of champagne and splits what’s left between them. The studio is footing this bill, but why let a good bottle go to waste?

They finish them off like shots, clinking glasses and then downing the contents in one go. 

* 

Their early departure clearly catches the photographers settled in outside the restaurant off-guard. Chris can't hide his pleasure over that, laughing when they all start talking rapidly to each other. "Faster," he whispers to Darren, who seems slightly conflicted before picking up his pace to keep up with Chris. "Car's right there!" 

They're both laughing and slightly breathless as they slide into the backseat of the chauffeured car. Clearly their publicists hadn't trusted them enough to actually find their own way to the restaurant and back... and obviously, for good reason. 

Darren leans forward and slaps a bill into the driver's hand. "Take us to the best pastry shop you know of." 

The driver appears to have some kind of ethical conflict until he sees how much money Darren's just given him. 

* 

"This is amazing," Chris says, licking heavy cream from his fingertips. They've been here twenty minutes, and the car is waiting outside for them but he won't be rushed. "This may be the best idea you've ever had." 

Darren gives him a look like a puppy who just got scratched behind the ears in exactly the right spot. It's ridiculous and endearing and Chris is only willing to admit so because he's been swayed by alcohol and dessert. 

So much dessert. 

"I'm getting stuff to go," he announces, walking over to the display case. The girl behind the counter doesn't speak any English and Chris definitely never got the hang of French but they communicate pretty well through a series of pointing and nodding gestures. 

Darren doesn't seem as inclined for seconds. He leans back against the wall, just watching Chris. Eventually it makes Chris's skin prickle a little with the weight of it. 

"What?" He asks, turning around while the girl boxes up his future midnight snack and breakfast, respectively. 

"Just wondering how you eat like that and still manage to look so..." Darren makes a vague hand gesture. 

Chris's cheeks redden slightly. He hates that he knows they're doing that, that he can feel the subtle heat of it. "Well, some of us actually remember the gym exists." 

"I'll have you know the fans are fond of my pudge." Darren gets up and walks over to stand by Chris, leaning against the display case. "Really, though. It's like I hit thirty and no amount of exercising kept the belly off. But it's all good. This is the body the great flying spaghetti monster gave me, and in his carbs we do give thanks." 

"You are ridiculous," Chris says, rolling his eyes. 

But maybe he files that one away for later, too. 

* 

Chris wakes up the next morning and does indeed enjoy his indulgently high-fat breakfast. He enjoys less the interviews that come after, though at least it’s just a radio show and not the endless parade of accented men and women in suits with microphones and question cards clutched in their sweaty fingers. 

He has a few interviews alone and a few with Darren, and then the European media has had their fill and they're both released back into the wild to gather their luggage and head for the airport. 

Darren’s not sitting near him on the plane this time. Chris stares out the window, telling himself he’s glad he doesn’t have to deal with the constant distraction. 

*

Chris sits in his manager’s office the next Monday morning. He’d woken up to a voicemail and a text from her saying to call. He’d known when her assistant put him straight into her afternoon schedule that it was something big. 

He’d had hopes that it was maybe show related, or even some awesome news about his books or an update on whatever endless negotiations are going on with the his publishers at the moment. 

But no, of course not. 

“You did this on purposes,” Chris says, voice dull as he realizes on what massive level he’s just been played. “The whole Paris thing - you only sent us there for this.” 

“The interviews were genuine.” Alla is a picture of cuteness behind her desk, but there’s steel in her voice and a hard set to her jaw. Being tiny and blonde just means she has learned how to take no shit and make people realize she means it. 

But Chris is stubborn, too. “This is so sleazy. We don’t do this. I don’t do this.” 

“You are now,” Alla says. “This is a positive move for your career. It’ll keep your name in the news whether the film does well or not, and it’ll quiet those rumors that you and Darren hate each other.” 

“We don’t hate each other…” Chris says in a weak voice. “Can’t we just post some pictures from set, or something?” 

“You can do that,” Alla agrees. “In addition to the rest.” 

“I don’t want to lie,” Chris says. “I’d be lying to everyone.” 

“No, you won’t be.” Alla speaks more gently. “You will simply let people draw their own conclusions. It really isn’t that much of a time commitment. A dinner once or twice a week, talk to him on social media, post a casual picture or two. We can arrange some things for you. Inside jokes go over well. People will eat it up, sweetness, they absolutely will. We’ll get a maximum return on a minimum investment.” 

“I don’t want to do this,” Chris says again, blunt. “Does Darren?” 

“You’d have to talk to him.” 

“What, you couldn’t just call his guy up for me? You guys must be great buddies by now, with all the time you apparently spend discussing my personal life and how you’re going to use it to manipulate a fanbase.” 

Alla levels a stare at him and he feels slightly queasy with how much he doesn't want to be in this situation, having this conversation with her. "We're done here," she says, pushing back from her desk. 

And that's it. The conversation is over. 

She briefly squeezes his shoulder as she walks by, and then leaves him sitting there stewing in his anger alone in her office. 

* 

Darren calls him later that afternoon. Chris is on his couch when he answers the phone, wearing pajama pants and no shirt, the cat purring against his feet. 

"Is it that big of a deal?" Darren asks. 

"Maybe not to you," Chris says. 

"Why is it to you?"

And Chris realizes he has no answer to that. He can't explain why the idea of pretending to be something with this guy that on most days he feels like he barely knows puts such a sour taste in his mouth. 

"It's for show," Chris says. "It's just an act. I have better things to do with my time than let myself be prostituted out so a tv show gets some more viewers." 

Darren sighs. "Okay. But you still agreed to it, didn't you?" 

Technically, Chris isn't really sure he _had_. Alla would probably tell a different story.

Darren takes his silence as assent. "Do you at least want a say in what we do when we hang out? Or do you want it totally hands off?" 

"Do we even have a choice?" Chris asks. 

"Of course we do. Dude, you're being way too harsh about this." Darren, for once, almost sounds annoyed. 

"Did you know?" Chris wonders. "When you suggested we skip dinner and all of that?" 

"Oh," Darren says, like suddenly he gets something. "No, listen, I didn't, okay? We had fun that night, and that was just - us, hanging out. And is it so bad that we might get to do that a little more often?"

"It won't be the same." Chris rolls over onto his back. He's uncomfortable with this conversation. "Look, I have to go." 

"Shit, wait. You never answered me. Do you want to set up dates by ourselves?" 

Chris sighs. "Fine, yeah. Just - text me whenever you want me to show up." 

* 

Chris meets Becca for lunch the next day and ends up explaining the whole situation to her. 

"I just can't believe this is even my life," Chris says. 

Becca sips her smoothie. "Why can't you? You're an actor, babe. This is what actors do. They pretend to be someone they aren't, doing things they aren't really doing." 

Chris shakes his head. "But that's a character. That's a defined role. This isn't." 

"I think you're wrong." Becca pushes her straw around with her finger, eyes fixed on him. "Completely wrong. Because you are a character. You are a public figure, and the fans you have look at you like you aren't something real. You are a persona, not a person." 

"That's what I hate, though!" Chris gestures angrily with his hand. "Why does who I am as a person have anything to do with _anything_? Why does anyone care who I'm dating?" 

"They care because that's what Hollywood is today. Thank the internet, thank social media, thank the paparazzi, or don't thank anyone - it won't change the fact that it's true. When people love a character, they want to love the person playing the character. They want to think you're just as awesome a dude as Aiden." 

"And they also want to think I'm fucking the same person Aiden is fucking." Chris grimaces. "God, what would they have done if one of us was straight?" 

Becca waves a hand. "Have you even been on the internet? That stops no one. You wouldn't believe how many social media accounts are dedicated to me and Jenna. It's fantastic. And they always give me a killer body." 

"You already have a killer body," Chris says. 

Becca gives him a dimpled smile. "Of course. But they make it even more killer. The internet is fantastic, trust me. Terrifying, but fantastic."

"I want no part of it," Chris grumbles. 

"That's because you were born geriatric. I'm surprised you can even work your smartphone. For your next birthday, I'm going to buy you one of those Jitterbug ones with the huge buttons that doesn't do anything but make calls." Becca grins at him. "I could give you a flipbook of cat pictures and you'd be just as happy as if you were really online." 

"I hate you." Chris scowls at her. 

"Sure you do." She steals a bite of his muffin. "But really, you need to stop whining, okay? Because you are the only one making this a big deal. You think other people haven't pretended to flirt for the cameras just to get a boost? And, hell. Sometimes it isn't even really for the camera. You could do with mixing a little pleasure with work... and Darren? He's great for that. Trust me." 

She winks at him and Chris yanks his plate away so she can't have any more of his food. "No thanks," he says, a little too aggressively. 

Her eyes widen ever so slightly. "Damn. Either you really hate him, or you really secretly still want to jump his bones." 

"He's attractive, I can admit that, but I want no part of him." Chris shakes his head. "I've seen the aftermath of his affections." 

"Like you haven't left a few boys sobbing on their knees." Becca settles with her own fruit, since she can't help herself to his. "Max? Remember him?" 

"Max wouldn't come out," Chris says. "I would have dated him if he'd been willing." 

"But you didn't just dump him. You fucking decimated that boy." 

"We didn't even know each other at the time, how do you even know about that?" Chris protests. "It wasn't that bad." 

"Honey, everyone knows about that. Max talks about you like you are the long lost love of his life. I mean, The Richard Burton to his Elizabeth Taylor." 

"I'm not sure you don't have that analogy backwards," Chris says. "Max is exaggerating. We were never that serious. You heard me. He wouldn't even come out." 

"How do you know that means he wasn't serious?" Becca asks. 

"Because if he had been, he'd have come out." Chris isn't sure how this logic isn't connecting to her. 

"So you basically asked the boy to choose between his career, and you? The career he presumably worked years for? Knowing that if he chose you, the types of roles he would be offered would change drastically?"

"Oh, gee, you mean he might have only been offered gay roles? I wouldn't at all know how that feels," Chris snaps. "If it's so bad for him, how the fuck did I ever get anywhere in this industry?" 

Becca gives him a surprised look. "I didn't mean it like that." 

"Yeah, you did." Chris puts his fork down. "And so did he, back then. He might have been in love with me, but not enough to put himself on my level in Hollywood. Not enough to be tainted with the dark mark that is being an out, gay man. And I have no time for people that want to hide anything about themselves." 

Becca is quiet for a few moments, and then says, "But Darren doesn't hide. So, there's that." 

"And that's one of the few things I was prepared to give him credit for," Chris says. "But this whole thing with me, faking a relationship? It's lying. Just the same as staying in the closet." 

"Wow, but no," Becca says. "Babe, I love you, but you have got to stop seeing things in such black and whites." 

"Why?" Chris asks. "Why is not being willing to compromise such a crime?" 

Becca shakes her head at him. “It’s just a hard way to get by in life.” 

“I do fine,” Chris says, and tries to pretend that the pity on her face doesn’t burn. 

*

Chris wakes up with the sun shining too brightly in his eyes. 

He has a full day today. There are costume fittings for the movie filming, and a video chat meeting with his publisher. Half the summer will be filming for the movie, but they want to push the book release back so that it isn't competing for media attention with the movie. 

For Chris, it means he'll be in New Mexico filming for two months, with a first draft of his next book due to his editor the month after that. Of course, this is under the assumption that he finishes the book by the end of the summer and that the publishers keep their end of the schedule on track with editing and revisions. 

The balance he’s had to strike between the show and his last books has been precarious. For the past two years he’s managed writing and editing between shooting and then normally a summer book tour, but this year there are just too many hold ups and so many of the variables are out of his hands. But there will be a book, and with that will come a book tour. Like always, they'll try and schedule him for two dozen cities and he'll agree to five or six of them and they'll negotiate it somewhere in between. 

He doesn't mind the book tours, even if sometimes he gets a little freaked out with so many people clamoring for him actually in person. What he minds is being gone for so long. He rolls over in bed and finds his cat staring at him. "I know, I know," he grumbles, leaning forward and burying his face in her soft fur. "I’ll be gone all summer and then come back just to abandon you again for a month. You're already hating me for it, aren't you?" 

She's not, really. She does just fine. Chris is pretty sure that she views his assistant as much her owner as Chris is. Part of Chris resents that, but he is glad that he can avoid boarding her. 

Alla makes fun of his angst over it. She tells him that if he ever has a real child, he'll have to give up his career to be a stay at home dad or the guilt will really eat him alive. Chris always answers by pointing out that he doesn't ever plan on having kids. Maybe he'd thought about it once or twice when he was younger and in the right kind of relationships, but it's been awhile since then. He can't imagine caring so strongly about someone that he'd want to raise a kid with them now. Even more, he can't imagine giving that much of himself over. Maturity has made him acknowledge the selfishness inherent in himself. 

He rolls out of bed and plants his feet on the ground. No point in really delaying the day. It'll happen whether he likes it or not. 

*

Aiden gets a pretty kickass wardrobe upgrade for the feature. 

Chris nods approvingly at the black pants that hug his ass, the blue-green accents with a silvery sheen. It's not Star Trek futuristic, but it's just slightly more than what's on trend for modern day. 

And it looks good on him. "You really are the best," he says, giving appropriate admiration to the costume designers. 

Maggie, the one usually assigned to him, just grins. "Wait til you see Bay's new outfit." 

"Oh, god." Chris groans. "Is it-" 

Maggie reaches over and plucks a polaroid from the spread of them on a messy table. 

"Wow," Chris says, staring at it. Darren's striking a flamboyant pose (of course) but it's obvious despite his antics that the outfit is a flattering counterpoint to Chris's. He's wearing a v-neck t-shirt to Chris's button up, pants that are similar but with colored stitching. Bayani's usually got a little more of a youthful mischievous vibe than Aiden, and the wardrobe is pretty good about reflecting it. It makes it even more of a draw for the audience when Aiden's quite literally buttoned up demeanor suddenly becomes relaxed in those late night research scenes with Bay. Chris can appreciate the parallels. 

He can also admit how similar he and Darren are to their characters. He often wishes he'd been cast as someone completely different to himself, but he's also sure that his own strengths as an actor and preferences as a person may have influenced the character, too. 

He isn't Aiden Black, of course. He isn't former government lawyer turned FBI agent turned conspiracy chaser. And Darren is far from his character in many ways. Bayani is a professional hacker and Darren still gets confused putting his phone on silent sometimes. 

But the parts of the characters that the fans have grown most attached to are the parts most like they themselves, and that's part of Chris's discomfort with how much fans just really want them to be together. 

He doesn't like that someone who has never met him or Darren can look at them and think they'd be good together. He doesn't like being judged, not from up close or a far, but certainly not from strangers. 

Maggie circles around him on her knees, still measuring to make sure they get the fit of all the pants just right. She leans back, then nods her approval. "Go ahead and change into the jeans." 

"Aiden in jeans." Chris grins ruefully. "They're pulling out all the stops." 

Maggie laughs. "And we've only gotten notes for half the script so far. Maybe you'll really luck out and get an underwear scene." 

Chris blanches, the aforementioned jeans halfway up his legs. He probably looks ridiculous. "You don't really think they would?" 

"Mm..." Maggie hums. "I heard they're batting around the idea of a R rating." 

"Oh, God." Chris groans. "They would." 

"What’s so bad about it, babe?" Maggie asks, frowning at how the jeans are just a touch too long. "The show could use it. They've been dancing you and Bay around for three seasons now. It's starting to be a little played out." 

"They've always said they'll get us together in the end," Chris says. 

Maggie looks up at him, reaching up to push a lock of bright blue hair out of her face. "You realize this might actually be the end, right?" 

Chris looks straight ahead at his own reflection in the mirror. "Yeah, I guess that could be true." 

"Could be?" She tilts her head and shrugs, like she's just decided it isn't really worth arguing. 

The movie is a last ditch effort at drumming up ratings and network interest, but he knows what she means. 

It's also supposed to be a long goodbye if it doesn't work. He's heard it said more than a few times by now: the movie is a gift that they can give to the fans. Obviously, no one involved - either for passion or for financial profit - really wants his ride to end. And yeah, looking at it like that? It makes sense that they might go all out and give Bay and Aiden a big connection scene, make the flirtation and pining and feelings and close encounters between them real. 

So, awesome. Now Chris has that to look forward to. 

* 

Chris spends the next three hours in his trailer writing. 

He's trying to write, at least. He's not getting too far, though, not on the fictional story. 

His journal, on the other hand? The words are flying. So much he can't say, wouldn't say, can barely even admit to himself - but somehow when he's typing they just come, more freely and more inspired than his voice would allow. 

He knows it's probably dumb to keep any kind of online account of his life. One hacked website and he'd be fucked, but that's why he makes sure to never really write anything he'd truly get roasted for. Embarrassing sentimentality is allowed, actual private information is not. 

Alla would probably love it if this got leaked, actually, he realizes with a laugh. Cataloging all the things he'll miss about set if he doesn't get to come back? She begs him to throw stuff like that at reporters when he's being interviewed. 

But this isn't for an audience. This is for him. This is how he processes things. The mood on set is a weird one. Much like his conversation with Maggie, it goes from excited to grim in a moment's notice. They'll have the movie to look forward to no matter what, but everyone knows this might be the last days they actually have on this set with this same group of people. 

He's got another half hour before he needs to get to the makeup trailer, and there's a knock on his door. 

"Come in," he calls out. He's stretched out on the little sofa he's decorated with a cat themed throw and a cat shaped child's pillow pet. 

(When anyone asks, he says Becca did it as a prank.) 

The door pushes open and Darren is standing there. Chris can't actually tell if he's in his own clothes or Bayani’s, but his hair is a little neater than being on set calls for. "Hey, you busy?" 

"So busy," Chris says, rolling his eyes. "You've interrupted my disco dance party." 

Darren grins a little. "Yeah, I was just coming to complain about that bass." 

"Well, I am all about that bass." 

"That bass?" Darren takes the bait. 

Chris sits up. "Oh, yeah. No treble." 

"That one's vintage," Darren says. He drops down into the seat recently vacated by Chris's feet. 

"Well, vintage is my specialty.” 

“You rock the geriatric nerd vibe like no one else I know.” Darren agrees. 

“What's up?" Chris asks. He's full of trepidation, hoping this won’t be a continuation of the phone call they've both carefully avoided mentioning. 

"Just. You know. Seeing what's up." Darren looks at Chris's laptop. "Working on your next literary masterpiece?”

“Literary masterpiece? Chris snorts. "Please." 

"What? Your books are fucking good. I pick them up every time you put one out. Since you usually publish them in the summer, when I fly home I grab one and take it with me, read it while I’m at my parents place. It’s kind of become like my own little ritual," Darren explains, a grin on his face. The grin turns to a frown when he sees that Chris still looks extremely dubious.. "I'm hyped to see what happens next. I like that I can’t predict where you’re going to take a story. I mean, I wasn’t sure how much I’d get into a kids series at first with Land of Stories, but you’re went the Harry Potter route, aging up the storyline as the kids got older. I liked that." 

"Aw, I'm touched, you read a back cover blurb." Chris is mocking himself more than Darren. “Or was it a review? Maybe a book report, I hear kids have done those on my books. I always feel bad for the kids assigned my stuff.” 

"Or maybe, try, I _actually read the books_?" Darren says, turning and pulling his feet up onto the couch, too. They're facing each other, too many legs in too little of a space but somehow carefully balancing it so that they aren't touching, either. "Seriously, I read them all. The new stuff too, I just happen to think the first books are an amazing story. Alex and Connor are exactly the kind of role models little kids need to grow up, and you fucking went there making Alex be into girls."

"My editors tried to get me to change it," Chris says. "They said it was inappropriate to discuss sexuality in a book about little kids. I tried to point out that by the time either of them starts to have a crush on anyone, they're twelve years old." 

"No, but like, that's bullshit!" Darren waves his hands emphatically as he talks. "Because no one thinks anything of it when a little boy has a crush on a little girl in a kid's book. Even younger than twelve, that's just normal. The only thing sexualized about it is put there by the person reading too much into it. Parents even pull that shit like, all the time. Their infant has gas and they turn it into, oh look, he's a ladies man, look at him smiling at the pretty lady. It's bullshit that society says it's okay to force heterosexuality onto kids but you're a fucking pervert if you imply that a kid that young knows whether they find someone like them cute or someone not like them. What - what is that look on your face. You're scaring me." 

Chris hadn't even realized how big his smile had grown until Darren points it out. He tries to scowl again, but it doesn't quite work. "I just agree," he says. "I agree with everything you just said." 

"Holy shit." Darren reaches out and presses his hand to Chris's forehead. "Are you okay? Do I need to call a doctor?" 

"Oh, fuck off." Chris laughs as he pushes Darren's hand away. 

"So, while you're still looking so amiable, is this a good time to maybe bring up that we should hang out this weekend?" 

The smile drops away completely. "No, still not a good time." 

"... come on, cut me a break here. I'd rather this just be us, okay? I'd rather me and you get to make our own rules for this. You know this could be a whole lot worse." Darren looks at him, a plaintive look on his face. 

Chris thinks about what Becca had said. He thinks about how it's just for the summer, and then they can let it go quietly. 

"Fine," he says. "Lunch, Saturday." 

"Do you want to arrange a photographer, or just go somewhere crowded?" Darren asks. 

"Which - which would you prefer?" 

"Somewhere crowded," Darren says. "I feel skeezy hiring people to take our photo like that. But I didn't know how comfortable you'd be. I mean, fans might come up to us..." 

"It's fine," Chris says. "I can handle that." 

"You sure?" Darren asks. 

Chris glares at him. "I'm sure." 

"I just don't want a repeat of Barcelona-" 

"I said I'm sure." Chris snaps, cutting him off. He remembers Barcelona, he doesn't need Darren reminding him. 

"Okay, okay," Darren says. "Cool, then. Saturday." 

* 

The restaurant Darren texts him is not a place he's been before, though he knows it's popular with some of the other cast and crew. It's close to set, a little nearer to Chris's apartment than Darren's. 

He gets there first, and he can already see a couple of girls giving him looks. He's relieved when Darren shows up only a couple minutes later. 

"Did you walk?" Chris asks. 

"Yeah. It's a nice day." Darren leans in and gives him a quick hug before taking the seat opposite Chris. 

The brief touch startles Chris but he forces himself not to linger on it. "I could have picked you up." 

"No big deal." Darren shrugs. "It's only a couple miles, and it's an awesome day. I've been cooped up inside packing all day." 

Darren doesn't have a car, having never bothered to get a new one when they moved to Vancouver. He bums rides - usually from Harry, who still lived in the same rental house until a couple of months ago. 

Chris used to live there, too. That first year when the show had been on that bubble, that terrifying limbo between renewal and cancellation, the network hadn't even wanted to pony up money for them to all get their own places. 

They'd all shared the two story house, but Chris moved out as soon as the show had been given the green light and they'd known they'd be in Vancouver for at least another year. Cory ended up moving out when he left the show early on in season two, giving up acting in favor of rehab and moving somewhere an hour or so out of town with his girlfriend to try and quietly get his life together. It’s worked; he and Chris actually keep in touch, casually but sometimes more than Chris does with some of the co-stars he works with every day. Cory has a little girl now and he reads her Chris’s books as bedtime stories. 

Harry and Kevin stuck around, though Harry saw that the Shadow Grove ship was sinking and took a role on a more popular show halfway through their most recent season. It’s still weird to show up on set and not see him. 

"Are they having you give up the house?" Chris asks. 

"I think we've got the lease through August, but if we do get canceled I don't want to have to spend too long here doing that. My last days in the 'Couv are better spent on karaoke stages and dragging old friends out of their hermit holes." 

"Oh my god, do not call it that." Chris makes a pained face. Once the guys realized how much it annoyed Chris, they'd all taken to doing it. 

Cory especially. 

Chris grabs his menu, noticing that Darren doesn't. "Do you already know what you want?" 

"I let the server pick for me," Darren says. "They always know the good shit." 

"Don't they just pick the most expensive thing on the menu for you?" 

"No way. They do me good." Darren reaches over and grabs Chris's menu from him. "You should try it. Live a little." 

Chris tries to tug the menu back. "I prefer to actually know I'm going to like what I'm paying my money for." 

"Seriously, do it my way, just once." Darren pouts at him. 

"That definitely doesn't work me on," Chris says. 

But it does, however, work on the giggling pink-cheeked waitress who is clearly overwhelmed by the power that Darren places in her tiny, underaged hands. 

"You're paying for this meal." Chris warns Darren. "Just so you know. And you're also paying for me to re-order if I hate what she brings out." 

"Deal," Darren says. "I figured I'd pay anyway. You can get it next time." 

Next time. Right. 

Chris glances around, reminded of what they're doing here. 

"Don't be so obvious." Darren kicks him lightly under the table. 

"I want to make sure this is actually doing some good. I don't want to waste my time." 

"Jesus." Darren whispers it under his breath. "You really do not want to be here, do you?" 

Chris almost feels bad. But the truth is that no, he doesn't. 

"Anyway," Darren says. "Yeah, like two people already took pictures. Go check your twitter, I guarantee you they're already on there." 

Chris pulls up the app on his phone and goes straight to the dark, foreboding wasteland that is his mentions. 

The first three screens are all filled with various keysmash and what Chris assumes is supposed to translate to excitement. He finds one with an attachment and opens it. 

It's a picture of Darren hugging him. Chris's own eyes are closed in the picture. He knows that hug lasted all of half a second, but the photographer had amazing timing. 

"Well," Chris says, sliding his phone across the table to show Darren. He doesn't want to hold it up, not wanting anyone else to see what they're looking at. "That is effective." 

Darren gives him an I-told-you-so look. 

"Oh, don't look so smug." Chris closes out of the app on his phone and puts it back into his pocket. "You're still buying my food." 

Darren laughs. "I said I would, man. I said I would." 

To Chris's dismay, the special brought to him by the waitress actually is amazing. It's also not something he'd have ever ordered - savory crepes and a four cheese pasta dish. 

Darren gets a chicken dish, though he poaches half of Chris's pasta. "It's just so we look super friendly," he tells Chris as he pulls a loaded fork full back, cheese stretching long between the tines and Chris's plate. 

Chris makes threatening stabbing motions with his own fork. "I hope someone's getting photos of that." 

"I'm sure they are." Darren talks with his mouth full. 

In the end, the waitress tells them that the manager comped the meal. They both autograph a napkin for her and take pictures using the front facing camera on her phone. 

"I don't know why restaurants do that," Chris complains as they walk out. "Come on, I'll give you a ride." 

Darren doesn't protest the ride offer. "Why they do what?" 

"Give us free food." Chris hits the unlock button on his car fob. "We are the ones who can afford their overpriced food. Why do they think thirty bucks saved will entice us back?" 

"I usually pay," Darren says. "I'm not the big deal there. You are." 

"What?" Chris stops, looking at him. 

"Yeah, I'm in there like every weekend. Harry, too, sometimes. We usually hang out and talk a little, people know we'll be around. They were just pumped that you were there." Darren opens the passenger door and hops in. 

Chris joins him after a moment. "That's just weird," he says. 

Darren shrugs. "I don't think so." 

It only takes a couple of minutes to get to Darren's house. Chris parks, then sits there, unsure. 

"You want to come in?" Darren watches him with an infuriating little smile. 

"I, I don't-" 

"Come on," Darren says, opening his door. "Just for a minute." 

"Next time," he says. 

"I'm holding you to that," Darren says. He gets out of the car and pushes the door shut, hopping back a couple steps and waving before he turns around. 

* 

There are two weeks between the season four wrap and when he has to be in New Mexico for the movie. 

He really would like nothing more than to sit around his apartment and bask in no societal expectations upon him. No one to judge him for ordering food in and not showering, no one to make fun of how many hours of youtube videos he can consume in one sitting. Phone on silent, door locked, the world at large put on ignore. 

But, no. Instead: 

"Now, do you want us to pick you up from the airport?" Karyn Colfer asks. 

"No, Mom, that's fine-" 

"Are you sure?" She interrupts him. "You know how that traffic can get." 

"Mom, I'm sure." Chris sighs. He can feel the tension headache gathering behind his eyes. "I lived in Los Angeles for five years. Clovis traffic does not scare me." 

"I think we better pick you up, anyway." Of course she ignores him. "You just don't know how it is since they shut down that lane-" 

She keeps talking, but he tunes her out. He'll have a full week to listen to her colorful opinion on any number of topics, ranging from that skirt Shirley in her Bible study group wore to the state of traffic and road repair to what flowers she's planning on planting in her backyard garden this year. 

He'll rent a car as soon as he gets to the airport. There's no way he's stranding himself at his parents house with absolutely no way to escape. He loves his parents, and he does once in a while wish that he could get home just for a quick visit, but - quick, a quick visit. Not a week. A week is not quick. 

A week, in the space-time continuum that is his childhood home, is like a month by any other measure of time. The worst part is that if he acts like he doesn't want to be there, it doesn't get better - it just gets worse. The stifling small town air combined with the humidity of oppression and the sweltering guilt his mother sends his way - it's not a situation he wants to be in. 

His cat stares at him. He stares back. _You're lucky,_ he thinks. _Your summer vacation is actually a vacation._ Instead, Chris gets a week of family and then two months of filming. 

And, of course, he gets to spend most of that with his brand new boyfriend.


	2. Chapter 2

Home is... home. 

It's the same house that Chris grew up in, just thirty years older. The decor has changed a little since Chris visited last, but his parents certainly haven't. His father wants to make small talk about the weather and politics, expressing opinions that Chris not only actively disagrees with but feels more than a little uncomfortable hearing. It’s not worth the argument of speaking his own mind, though. He went through those years of constantly butting heads, but he’s learned he can’t change his parents any more than they can change him. 

His mother just wants to nag him, say he isn't eating enough, ask if he's met anyone. She knows he's gay, and he knows she's written off that whole idea that maybe one day he'd wake up with a penis that magically responded to women and give her some biological grandbabies. It took a while, but she got there, and Chris isn't actually sure he prefers this to her decade long phase of warming up to his sexuality. Now she just harasses him to meet someone and adopt some kids. 

If he wanted to be mean he'd point out that he wouldn't be moving anywhere within babysitting distance even if he did. 

He calls this home, but it’s not where he lives and it’s not really where he ever plans to live again. He finds that concept strange sometimes, when he stops to think about it. He had an apartment in Los Angeles, a tiny little thing he could barely afford and never really got all that attached to. His place in Vancouver is nicer, but it’s as transitory as the show and his job. He’ll leave it, if not this year then in a couple more after. 

Most days he doesn’t think he really has a home at all. He has a few houses, but none of them feel like… home. One day, he thinks, he’d like to actually find somewhere that does. He’d also like to maybe not be alone when he does it, but he knows better than anyone you don’t always get what you want. 

*

Three days in and he's going stir crazy. 

"We should go somewhere," Hannah says. 

She's laying on his floor while he lays across the bed. Downstairs, his mother is vacuuming. She banished them onto the second story like they were children again. 

Here, Chris feels like he is. He feels bad for Hannah, who still lives at home and probably always feels this way. She can't drive, due to her medical issues, and Chris knows from their many phone conversations how stifled she feels sometimes. She needs more help than most girls her age and the constant supervision is not something they can work around, but she's still an adult who sometimes just wants to be away from her parents. 

"We should," Chris says, sitting up. "Where do you want to go?" 

"Hmmm," she says. "Disneyland!" 

Chris laughs. "Of course you want to go to Disneyland." 

"What?" She narrows her eyes at him. "Disneyland is literally the best place on earth, Chris." 

He grins. "Well, I guess it is. Tomorrow, then? Mini road trip? If we leave tonight, we can get a hotel room in Anaheim and spend all day tomorrow at the park!" 

"For real? Yes!" She scrambles to her feet. She gets out the door then does a 180 and sticks her head back in. "I call not-it on telling Mom!" 

Their mother is angry, of course. She's protective of Hannah in a way Chris never really gave her a chance to be about him. But Chris is probably the only other person that she'd trust with Hannah on an overnight trip, and after a little bit of firm discussion she agrees. One night, and Hannah has to answer her phone when Karyn calls to remind her about her pills. 

She leaves Chris to go make sure Hannah is packing everything she needs. Chris sits at the kitchen table and calls Alla to give her a quick heads up on his location change and line up park security if they need it. It's Disneyland, so they'll almost certainly be spotted, but Chris likes to go as incognito as possible when he can. 

He's just ended his call with Alla when he gets a text. 

There are half a dozen people Chris would think that Darren would be quicker to text than him, especially with a technical question like that. His manager, his agent, his assistant - they’d probably all know. 

Oh, so Darren is trying to turn this into an actual conversation. Chris briefly thinks about just not responding, but his fingers tap out an answer anyway. 

Hannah comes back downstairs to ask Chris if he can tell their mother that no one needs to pack three jackets for a trip that won't last forty-eight hours. 

"It's just being thorough," Karyn argues. "A light jacket in case it's warm, a heavy jacket in case it gets cold, and a rain jacket in case it rains!" 

"Mom, it's Los Angeles. It never rains or gets cold," Chris says, then looks at Hannah. "But you know she won't be happy until you pack all three, so just go ahead and do it." 

"See?" Karyn says to Hannah, as if Chris was genuinely siding with her. 

Chris laughs as he glances down at the phone. 

When he looks back up Hannah is staring at him. "Who's that?" She asks. He can practically see her focus narrowing down onto whatever she sees in his expression. 

"Darren Criss," he answers. "My co-star on the show." 

"I know who he is," Hannah says. "We bonded at one of those premiere things in Los Angeles. He stole me cupcakes all night long. And a drink." 

"Hannah!" Karyn says, warning in her voice. "Christopher, you will not let her drink, will you? It's bad with her medications." 

"Mom!" Chris tries not to whine. "It was Darren that gave her the drink, and that was like three years ago!" 

Hannah ignores them both. "I liked him, though. Why is he texting you?" 

"None of your business," Chris says. 

Unfortunately for Chris, Hannah doesn't appear to accept that as an actual answer. 

*

They sing out loud as they drive down the highway, riding the speed limit in a parentally acceptable manner but feeling carefree nonetheless. It's just shy of a four hour drive, and Chris had his assistant book them a room so all they have to do is stop by the front desk and grab their keys when they get there. 

"Hey Bubba?" Hannah asks, somewhere just past the midway point. "What time did you say we were getting to the park?" 

He looks over and sees her holding his phone. "Oh no." 

She just grins at him. 

"Han?" His eyes narrow. "What are you doing?" 

"Nothing." Her voice is just a bit too casual to be really casual at all. "You had a text." 

"Please tell me you didn't." 

"From Darren." 

"Hannah." Chris sighs. "How did you even know my phone code?" 

"Oh, that was easy. It's the same thing you've had for years, Harry Potter's birthday." She smiles, all blonde hair and sweetness. "Don't you want to know what the text said?" 

"Not particularly," Chris says. 

"Fine, I won't tell you." Hannah shrugs. "But I answered him." 

"What did the text say?" Chris demands to know. 

"He just wanted to know if we were doing the park tomorrow still." Hannah pauses. "I said yes." 

"That's all you said?" 

"I might have asked him to join us." 

Chris groans. "You didn't." 

There are surely things Hannah could have said that would have been worse, but Chris is hard pressed to think of a single one right now. In an instant his day goes from a promising few hours of relaxing and sibling bonding time to something that he instantly dreads. 

"What?" Hannah asks. 

“Don’t you think I spend enough time with him already?” Chris asks. “This is my vacation from work, and you’re inviting a coworker to come with me?” 

“Wow, I forgot the law that says you can never hang out with anyone you work with outside of work. Oh my gosh, are the police gonna come and get me?” She fakes being terrified. "Come on, it'll be fun." 

"You just think he's hot." Chris accuses her. 

"So? He is!" Hannah laughs. "Come on, tell me you don't think so. I mean, you're the one that kisses him for a living." 

"I do not kiss him for a living!" Chris tries not to cringe at how high his voice gets when he says that. He repeats himself, forcing his voice lower. "I do not kiss him for a living." 

"Sure you do," Hannah says. "I see the pictures on the internet." 

"You should not be on the internet," Chris says. 

"You sound like Mom." 

"Well, she's right on that one. You're too young." 

Hannah laughs. "I'm twenty-seven!" 

"Too young," Chris insists. 

"You're an idiot." She grins at him. "And Darren's joining us." 

"I can't believe he'd agree to that," Chris mutters. He's annoyed with Hannah, but he's actually mad at Darren. 

He's already formulating the choice words he'll have to say later on when Hannah says, "Well, he thinks it's you." 

"... shit," Chris says. That's actually worse. It was okay to blame Darren if Darren was just doing this to get to him but if Darren thinks Chris invited him... Chris can't actually be mad. 

He sighs. 

"Come on, lighten up. It'll be fun," Hannah says, giving exactly zero fucks about how disgruntled her brother is. 

*

Hannah's tired once they get to the hotel room, despite her protests that she wants to live a little and maybe stay up past midnight. 

"There's nothing shameful about taking a nap," Chris tells her. "Seriously, I do it every chance I get on set." 

Once she's asleep he heads outside and calls Darren. He has every intention of telling Darren that this will never work, that they can't be seen at Disneyland together. They'll be mobbed, and it's more than just Chris being a hermit. He genuinely doesn't want this to become a security concern, not when he has his sister with him. He might not be at their mother's level, but he's still protective of Hannah. 

But as soon as he answers the phone Darren says, "Oh, good, I was gonna call you but I didn't want to interrupt your dinner! I'm so fucking excited about tomorrow." 

And he sounds like he means it. Chris settles down in one of the hotel lobby chairs, fingers picking at a loose thread on the material of the arm of it. "Right, tomorrow." 

"Are you guys getting breakfast around there, should I grab something on my way in? I don't want to horn in on too much of the family bonding. I know you don't get to hang with her that often. But fucking Disneyland, I'd love my big brother forever if he sprung that on me." 

"Well, I am pretty awesome," Chris says with a nervous laugh. "It's just, you know, she's got some medical issues-" 

"Yeah, you do that big fundraiser for epilepsy every year. I donate, did you know?" Darren adds. "I mean, I donate to a lot of charities, but it always means a little more when I know someone that it helps. It's like a personal connection. And I've only met Hannah a couple times. I can't imagine how much it must mean for you, to get to bring that kind of awareness and exposure - shit, I got off topic, sorry. You know me. Anyway, so yeah, are there like - specific things you're worried about for tomorrow? Anything I can help with?" 

Fuck. Chris really can't do this. "No," he finally says. "I just - we might have to go at a slower pace. It gets harder for her once she gets too tired." 

"Cool, cool, no problem." Darren agrees. "She's good to ride all the rides? I don't want to be an ass pointing out something she can't do." 

"No, she's fine for any of that," Chris says. "Really, try and keep her from the roller coasters. You wouldn't know what hit you." 

Darren laughs. "She's feisty. Just what I like in a woman." 

"Hey," Chris warns. "Hands off." 

"Don't worry," Darren says. "I've already made out with her brother. That'd just be creepy." 

Chris finds himself blushing at the mention of their show history, which is ridiculous - it's just the characters that have made out, not them.

"I'm having security on call, too," Chris says. "I want to go as unnoticed as possible." 

"Sure," Darren agrees. 

"I mean it. This... this isn't part of some scheme for publicity." Chris speaks firmly, needing Darren to know how much he means this. "This is me trusting you." 

"I can't keep people from seeing us," Darren says. "I won't like, encourage it or anything, though." 

"Good. A few autographs or photos with fans, that's fine, as long as Han stays out of it. But if it gets to be too much, we may need to leave." For Hannah, of course. Not because the idea of being mobbed by fans makes Chris suddenly start to sweat and his breath go shallow. 

"Got it," Darren says. "So, see you in the morning?" 

"Yeah. Okay." Chris shakes his head a little at how ridiculous this all is. "See you in the morning." 

*

The weather is LA-perfect and Hannah is ready to get up and go way too early in the morning for Chris's taste, but he can't deny that he's excited, too. 

She's got a park map that she swiped from the front desk of the hotel, and she spends all of breakfast drawing circles around what she wants to do. 

"I don't know," Chris says, pretending to be dubious as he looks over it. "Pretty sure there's an age limit for some of these." 

She throws a wadded up napkin at him. 

“Maybe it’s just a maturity level,” Chris laughs, throwing the napkin back. 

“Like you aren’t going to lose it when you see Mickey,” she shoots back. 

“Please,” Chris scoffs. “You know I’m more of a Goofy guy.” 

“I remember you stumping mom trying to make her explain why if Goofy and Pluto were both dogs, they couldn’t both talk.” Hannah grins, recalling an argument from one of their childhood trips. 

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Chris says, frowning. “Pluto got gipped.” 

“First with no vocal chords, then he lost planet status.” Hannah frowns sympathetically. “He really did.” 

“Well, if we see him later we’ll let him know we’re on his side,” Chris says, laughing. He leans over impulsively and hugs Hannah to him. “I’ve missed you, kid.” 

“I’m not a kid,” Hannah protests, but she smiles and hugs back briefly before shoving him away. 

* 

Darren meets them at their hotel. Chris and Hannah head down to the lobby together, but she realizes she forgot her chapstick and goes back by herself.

“I can go with-” Chris starts, but her look stops him cold. 

“Bubba.” She puts one hand on her hip. “I’m going to get my chapstick. By myself.” 

He sighs. “Fine.” 

Darren watches her go, then looks at Chris. “So, she’s a handful, I’m guessing?” 

“Don’t remind me,” Chris mutters. He sits down in one of the overstuffed chairs, the same one he’d been in when he’d talked to Darren on the phone the night before. 

Darren just laughs and joins him in sitting. He leans forward, facing Chris, and says, “So, I want you to do me a favor today.” 

“What?” Chris asks, already wary. 

“I want you to not check the internet. Social media, email, any of that shit.” Darren looks at him expectantly while Chris thinks about it. “I want you to have fun, and I know me tagging along makes it weird for you and if you open your phone and see one picture of us you’re gonna freak out and obsess and I’ll feel like shit for ruining your fun day out.” 

Chris wants to respond that if Darren were really that concerned, he wouldn’t have agreed to come. But he can’t say that without revealing that it was Hannah that invited Darren in the first place. Darren may not always be his favorite person but he’s not going to actually go out of his way to hurt Darren’s feelings like that. 

“I need to know if people are noticing us,” Chris says. “For Hannah’s safety.” 

“I’ll keep an eye on the internet,” Darren promises. “And dude, if it’s that bad, you’re gonna know because it’s gonna be like - in your face. You won’t need the internet for that.” 

Chris still isn’t crazy about the idea. “I don’t know…” 

“Please?” Darren asks. “Just, as a favor to me. I don’t want to fuck this up, and I think doing it this way will work.” 

“Fine,” Chris says. 

He’ll just check it when he’s in the bathroom. He can always tell Darren someone needs to stay with Hannah, to ensure Darren won’t follow him in. 

“Great, so give me your phone?” Darren holds out his hand. 

“What?” Chris balks. “I need my phone.” 

“Yeah, and when you do, I’ll have it. I won’t put it on silent or anything, if it rings or you get a text I’ll pass it right along. I just want to make sure you don’t sneak away and check twitter the first chance you get.” 

Chris glares. 

Darren laughs. “You were totally just telling me yes to shut me up, weren’t you? And that was your actual plan.” 

“No…” It’s a weak protest. 

“Come on.” Darren nods encouragingly, waving his hand a little. “Hand it over.” 

“What’ll you do if I don’t?” Chris asks. 

Darren doesn’t even need to think about it. “I’ll tell your sister.” 

With a heavy heart, Chris gives up his phone. 

*

Chris is not sure to begin with if Hannah has a crush on Darren herself, or if she's matchmaking. 

Darren and Hannah get along amazingly well. Chris isn't actually sure he should be surprised about that, but what does surprise him is how little he minds. She seems to be making it a point to try and draw Chris and Darren both into conversations, but she's picking topics that Chris and Darren really would never have just randomly jumped into together. 

Normally when they talk, it's about the show or a mutual friend or something travel related. It's very rarely this, rarely so completely free of shop talk. Maybe there was a point early on when it could have been, but that door got closed. Now, though - Hannah has them debating everything from which sport is the most boring to watch, to which Ninja Turtle is hands down the best, though that argument is sidelined when Chris and Hannah get into a side tangent about which Renaissance artist was actually the best. 

“Hannah’s an art nerd,” Chris explains, in response to Darren’s slightly amazed expression. 

“And Bubba’s a history nerd,” Hannah says. 

“And when art and history combine…” Chris finishes. “It gets ugly.” 

Darren fake-coughs the word, “Dorks!” into his palm. Chris doesn’t even have to bother retaliating. Hannah does it for him, punching Darren in the shoulder with surprising force. 

Within minutes the incident is forgiven and forgotten, though. She spots a roller coaster she’s dying to ride and shoves them both into line. 

“We could do the fast passes,” Darren suggests. 

“No way!” Hannah shakes her head. “Standing in line is part of going to a theme park.” 

“She’s weird,” Chris tells Darren. 

“Runs in the family?” Darren asks, then ducks away. Chris is about to go after him movement out of the corner of his eye stills his hands. 

Over the next minute Chris tries very, very hard to pretend he doesn’t see a woman in her twenties with a cell phone trained conspicuously on them. She doesn’t approach and then the line shifts, taking her out of viewing range of them. 

He won’t worry about it, Chris tells himself. He won’t think about it. They’ve made it almost two hours without incident, they’re doing well. 

And the luck does hold. If she shares the picture, it doesn’t result in the crowd of people around them that Chris fears. He actually begins to wonder if maybe he really is making too big a deal out of it. 

The truth is really that he goes out in public so rarely… at least not in California, not unless it’s some kind of actual event where fans of the show know to be at. 

"Darren! Sit in the middle!" Hannah demands once they make it to the head of the line. She all but shoves Darren in after Chris when Chris had expected Hannah to get in beside him. 

Chris spends the ten minute ride pressed shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh with Darren. When they pile out of the cart, she actually has the audacity to wink at him. 

He's fully confident that if it weren't for the fact that she spent the first two decades of her life in and out of hospitals and fighting for her life, his little sister would have already taken over the world. 

As it is, the epilepsy just set her game plan back a few years. And Chris is okay with that. People might like to tell him how ambitious he’s always been, but he’s got nothing on her level of willpower and determination. Hannah’s proven that she can beat anything life throws at her. 

He'll be perfectly happy to sit back and enjoy life under her benevolent reign. 

*

They manage a couple more rides before they agree that they’re ready for a little break. They find a stand selling bottles of water and claim a table to catch their breath at. Chris enjoys the lack of regimented schedule right now, and the fact that they all seem to be on the same page about what and how much of the park they really need to take in. 

Chris lets his mind drift away from where Hannah is telling Darren about the community college classes she’s taking. He’s not being rude; he’s just heard this all before, since he makes a point to talk to Hannah on the phone at least once or twice a week. 

His fingers reach for his phone no less than three times in the span of a minute and he almost has to laugh at himself. Technology addiction is such a nasty thing, but he has to admit it’s almost a relief to physically not be able to put himself through that. 

He tunes back into the conversation just in time to catch Darren laughing at something Hannah's saying, sipping on his drink with lips just a little too pink. His hair is glossy and curly, just a little longer than they usually like him to keep it for filming. His glasses are thick and chunky and he's got a five o'clock shadow going even though it's barely past noon. 

Chris is used to working with gorgeous people. He's surrounded by them every day of his life, and he's told constantly that he is one of them. He's the first person to rattle off his own flaws and acknowledge what makes him such a deviation from the Hollywood norm, but he gets it - with the right lighting, with the right angles, with people fitting his costumes and makeup artists painting him up, yeah. He doesn't look half bad, especially not when he rubs his fingers over his jaw like he’s doing just now… 

But there's just something about Darren, and as much as Chris hates to ever admit it, sometimes he gets why thousands of fangirls wet their panties every time he winks at them. 

“I don’t know,” Hannah says, reaching up to touch Darren’s bristly stubble in response to Darren mentioning he needs to shave. “I like this. You know, Chris still can’t even grow a beard.” 

… yes, Chris gets what the fans see in Darren, but that doesn't mean he's entirely okay with his sister being one of them. He clears his throat and tells himself it would be one step too far to actually reach out and remove her hand from his face. "You want to go get snow cones, Han?" 

Hannah gasps. "What? You're letting me walk a whole hundred feet away from you?" 

It is still within viewing distance, and he knows that. 

"Just don't tell Mom," Chris says, shoving a twenty at her. "I want peach mango."

"What about you?" Hannah asks Darren. 

"Oh, I can get my own," Darren says, reaching for his wallet. 

Chris shakes his head. "My treat." 

"Won't argue that.” Darren slides his wallet back into his pocket. “I'll do blueberry." 

"You'll have a blue tongue..." Hannah warns him. 

"Right? That's why I get it!" Darren grins at her. 

Chris rolls his eyes at both of them. "Children." 

Once she's walked away to get their treats, Darren looks at Chris. "You're so cool with her. It's obvious how much you love her. I think that's pretty awesome." 

Chris shrugs. He feels strangely vulnerable with Darren complimenting him about that, something so personal to him as his relationship with his sister. 

"I've got a brother," Darren says. 

"I know. I met him. Chuck, right?" Chris briefly remembers being introduced at some kind of event, a premiere or a party. 

"Yeah. We have a weird relationship. Like, we never really fought or anything, but once I started making it big with the show he kind of just shut down on me. He used to be in a band himself. Music is a passion in my life but he's the one that put out albums and did tours for years and tried to make a living off that shit. And then I end up going into acting and make it so that most of the people buying his music were just fans of mine first and think, I don’t know, it give them some kind of leg up in the game or something." Darren surprises Chris by how frankly he speaks. “And it sucks for Chuck, because he’s good. So I think he resents me for it, for how I kind of, you know, made it.” 

Chris returns the favor, responding honestly but with no malice in his voice. "I'd probably resent you if I were him, too."

"I miss him, though," Darren says. "I don't even know if he gets that I only wanted to go into acting and stuff like that because he did theater and drama in school. From the time I was little - we're only a couple years apart but it makes a difference. He started piano lessons, I wanted to be doing what he was doing. Then it was violin, then guitar, and then he was in school plays so I tried out..." 

"Hannah used to do that," Chris says. "There's more of an age difference between us, though. And she had a lot of medical issues that were worse when she was a kid, before they figured out the right kinds of medication. She's caught up so much, but as a kid she was really learning delayed. She tried to do whatever I did, but she'd get frustrated when she couldn't get it right." 

Darren laughs. "See, that was probably part of the issue with me and Chuck, too. I was better than him." 

"Oh my god," Chris laughs. "You're so full of yourself!" 

"What!" Darren shrugs. "I was! I got into all kinds of special camps and did competitions. I liked learning how to make an instrument do what I wanted, and it got me attention. I was such an attention whore as a kid." 

"As a kid?" Chris smirks. 

"Oh, shut the fuck up." Darren laughs. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Sure you don't." Chris is still laughing when Hannah walks back. 

She looks way too pleased to see them sitting, talking and laughing together. "Were you talking about me?" She demands to know as she hands the snacks out. 

"Of course," Darren says. "We were talking about how beautiful you are." 

"He means how annoying you are," Chris corrects. 

"Annoyingly _beautiful_." Darren flashes her a movie star smile. 

Hannah flashes her own right back. 

*

It's just shy of nightfall and Hannah's tired. She's trying to fight it, but eventually she sighs and puts her arm around Chris, leaning against his shoulder. "I hate being such a wimp, Bubba." 

She says it quietly, meant just for Chris, though Darren can probably still hear her anyway. 

Chris turns and kisses her temple. “You are so far from being a wimp, Sissy. Why don't we grab dinner and then head back to the room?" 

"No way," she says. "I don't want to be the reason your night ends early. Why don't I just head back up, and you and Darren can get dinner?" 

"I'm not-" Chris starts to protest. 

"Seriously." She cuts him off. "You guys can eat in the hotel. I've got my phone, you've got your phone-" 

"I've got his phone, actually," Darren chimes in. 

"-okay, weird, but whatever, Darren has your phone. It'll be fine. Please? I want to take advantage of that kickass tub, anyway." She whines, giving him a hopeful look with those big sad eyes. "And if you're not there you can't complain when I eat the whole piece of chocolate cake I'm going to order from room service." 

Chris sighs. "Fine." 

He can tell that both Hannah and Darren are a little surprised at how quickly he's agreed to it, but he does think she’d probably really value an hour or two by herself in a hotel room. 

They make it back to the hotel within a few minutes. "I'll be up in about half an hour," Chris warns her. 

She rolls her eyes at him and then looks at Darren. "Don't let him choke because he's trying to inhale his food too fast." 

"I'll give him the Heimlich if he does," Darren promises. They part ways with her in the lobby and head to the hotel restaurant. It's Disney themed, like everything else in the resort. "I love this place so much." 

"Yeah?" Chris asks. There isn't a wait, so Darren doesn't answer until after the host has shown them to their table. 

"Yeah. I mean the Disney movies, mostly, but my folks used to bring Chuck and I, like, once a year. My dad would have business in LA and we'd hit up the park. My mom thought it was a trip." 

Chris smiles slightly at that. "Mine isn't really the type. And we never went on a lot of vacations like that, anyway. Hannah was usually too sick." 

"She's doing good now, though?" Darren asks. 

Chris nods. "She is. It's amazing what medicine can do these days. There were times when I know my parents just thought... you know, she'd have these seizures and not come out for half a day sometimes, they were always terrified the next one would be the last one. But she hasn't had anything major like that in years now. It's incredible." 

"That's amazing." Darren reaches across the table to squeeze Chris's hand. Chris isn't expecting it, and he doesn't quite know what to do with that kind of casual contact. Darren must sense his discomfort because he offers a quick, "Sorry." 

"It's fine." Chris waves his hand dismissively. 

"Oh!" Darren reaches into his pocket and pulls out Chris's phone. "Here you go. And thanks for humoring me." 

"It was probably for the best," Chris admits. 

There had been something freeing about not having the phone, too. A few times it rang and Darren passed it to him, but it was usually his mother or Alla. The rest - the constant stream of texts and social media - those Chris didn't mind ignoring at all. 

He takes the phone and stares down at it, then decides to put it right back in his pocket without checking anything. 

Darren's grinning at him when Chris looks up. He lifts an eyebrow, as if to ask - really? 

Chris rolls his eyes. "Shut up." 

"Didn't say a word." Darren laughs. 

"No, but you thought it!" Chris maybe cracks a grin, too. 

The waiter comes by next, but after he's walked away the conversation lulls a little. It's not awkward, not any more than any other meal time silence, but Chris gets the sense that Darren's just waiting to say something. 

That's okay with Chris. He's fairly certain he can handle the quiet between them better than Darren can. 

He's right. After a couple minutes, Darren comes out with it. "So, we should talk about this summer." 

Chris stiffens immediately. "Of course." 

"Don't - hey, don't look at me like that. That's not what today was about, but since we're alone now..." Darren is trying to catch his eye. Chris can feel it out of his periphery, but the tablecloth is just so fascinating. "We've got a few options." 

"Oh? You mean I get a say?" Chris snaps. 

"They're putting us up in houses. I think they're doing a basic guy/girl split, but you know if you asked for your own place they'd give it to you. Or... we could ask for our own place," Darren says. "It would probably cut down on us having to actually do things. You know the fans are gonna stalk the filming since it's practically almost all location, they'll see us arriving and leaving together. Plus, I know how much you hated living in the group house... you can have some privacy." 

"And, what, you're already planning on being out half the time?" Chris asks. 

"Nah," Darren says. "Look, I know - I kind of had a reputation, before? But I was young, man. I was sewing those wild oats." 

“You were thirty-three when we started the show.” Chris rolls his eyes. 

“But a lad!” Darren asserts. 

“And you’re all done, now? All the oats are sewn?” Chris asks, because he remembers that. He remembers all those nights Darren wouldn't come in until the early hours of the morning. 

Chris has always been a night owl, but those first months in a new town he'd been anxious and not wanted to rely too much on sleeping pills. So many times he'd be out on the couch, trying to get away from Cory's snoring, when Darren strolled in. 

And some nights he was up to realize Darren didn't come back at all. He remembers now with a sour sort of shame how it used to make him feel, like something heavy was resting across his chest. 

He'd been almost thirty at the time but being around Darren made him feel like a teenager, behind the times and humored at best by the cool kids in the house. (He remembers trying to vent to Becca once. She'd just looked at him and said, "Of course it hurts when he picks doing other stuff over hanging out with you. That's why it's a crush, right?" and he hadn't talked to her for a week.)

"I just got tired of it all." Darren takes a drink of his water. "It got old." 

"Fresh pool of candidates where we’re headed, though." Chris points out, despite the words making him feel a little queasy. 

It's just been a weird day, that's all. It's been a weird day and this is a weird conversation to be having. 

"It's not even about that. I dated someone for a while, you know?" 

"Yeah, I know." Chris drinks his own water, just to have something to do with his hands. "She got married a couple months ago." 

"Yeah." Darren shrugs. "I'm not too upset. I mean, we'd already broken up. We were just headed in way, way different directions... it was only really serious for a couple months there, somewhere in the middle - that summer after season three when I was in LA. It was the first time we really had a chance to be in the same place for a couple months and it was a lot of fun. We were so into it then, we thought maybe it would last. It just... didn't. I'm happy for her. But it kinda showed me that there's another way, you know? So no, seriously, I'm done with the random hook-ups and partying."

"Right." Their food arrives, but Chris isn't even hungry anymore. He pokes at his chicken. 

"They're gonna get in touch with you by the end of the week about housing, probably," Darren says. "I'll go along with whatever you want." 

Of course he will. Because Darren's the most infuriatingly easy going guy in the world. 

*

He tells himself he won’t, but late that night with Hannah fast asleep one room away, Chris goes online. 

There are pictures of himself and Darren, of course. He knew there was almost no chance that they would go completely unnoticed. 

He makes himself read through the comments. If the point of this fake relationship is to get people talking, it’s already working; he’s got easily five times more mentions and email alerts from his assistant than on a normal day. Of course, he’s not really sure what this is supposed to do for the show, but Alla will be happy. 

He opens up a handful of the links to gossip sites and forums. Most of them are being restrained in their assumptions. He doesn’t see any accusations of a torrid affair just yet. People are excited, both to see him with Darren and just to see him out in general. It’s not so much that Chris avoids being seen with Darren as it is Chris just never really goes out with any cast member. He knows there are rumors about cast feuds and him hating everyone. It always makes him roll his eyes. His castmates, for the most part, aren’t bad at all. He likes them… he just doesn’t run in their circle. 

He does cringe when he sees that someone behind him on Splash Mountain must have snapped a picture of their mid-ride photo from the photo screen. Chris is between Hannah and Darren, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a laugh. Darren and Hannah both have their arms flung out. 

Chris has seen the picture. He even bought it, a flimsy copy that Hannah has tucked into her bag. It’s far from the most flattering picture of himself, but at least it’s a happy one. Darren bought a copy too, had even teased Chris for not until Hannah promised she’d scan hers in and email it to him. Chris sort of hopes she does, though he won’t actually go so far as to remind her. 

He heads to twitter next, but only spends a few minutes there. One post of someone suggesting they might have recreated a very inappropriate scene from the show while _in a cart with his sister_ and Chris remembers why moderation is key on social media. As always, he takes that as a sign that it’s time to turn the computer off and go to bed.

*

Chris decides on the apartment. 

He'd much rather be splitting it with Becca, but he's pretty sure this special little arrangement was okayed for a specific reason: all the fans that'll flock to the locations to see them, and all the internet rumors that will thrive on it. Marketing and promotions is an expensive field, rent on an apartment for two months is a relative drop in the bucket. 

So if he'll be living with Darren either way, at least this way he won't be shoved into a house that makes him feel claustrophobic every time he walks into it. 

He makes his demands to Alla: two bedrooms, good wifi, a decent view. They probably won't even be at the apartment half the time. They're filming in various locations around the state. Apparently aliens hell bent on taking over the government prefer arid deserts, but do also occasionally want to visit large cities. 

The hotel room shuffle will be a pain in the ass too, but Chris reminds himself that it's worth it. 

And really, if he allows himself some sentiment, he does believe that. Objectively, this is the kind of television show he'd have been invested in when he was younger - or even now, if he weren't such a big part of it. It's an action show, a well-written scifi story with realistic relationships and characters that actually represent more than just the straight white male contingency. Hell, there’s really only one straight white guy on the whole show and his relationships don’t get priority over anyone else’s. 

So yeah, for what it represents on the landscape of television, Chris really does want the show to stick around. He wants little girls to see characters like Becca's and Jenna's kicking ass and taking names right up there with the men. He wants nerds and geeks everywhere to realize that they can still be the leading man if they _don't_ kick ass and take names, if they just rule the world from behind a computer like Darren's character. 

He wants little boys who are already starting to wonder what makes them so different and if that's okay to be able to turn on the television and see someone - see _him_ , to see Chris - and know that it that tells them it _is_ okay, that they can be whatever they want. He wants to chip away at the stereotypes and show that there are so many stories to tell about relationships that don't involve 'boy meets girl.' He has a lot of admiration for what the writers do and how many chances they’re willing to take and how pushing the boundaries doesn’t have to mean sacrificing the stories. He hates that they live in a world where shows like that don’t always get the audience they deserve just because people aren’t always ready for them. Sometimes the plots are a little too cheesy and once in a while they just hit a total dud of an episode but for the most part it’s good, solid television with good, fully realized characters. He’s not sure if he’ll ever get another role as good as Aiden Black and the thought of losing that does make him sad. 

Chris knows he wasn’t the first choice for the role. Other actors turned it down because of the commitment required. But for Chris, moving from Los Angeles to Vancouver hadn’t seemed like that bad of a deal. He had no kids or family to leave behind, no partner that actually meant enough to make him want to stay. He’d embraced it fully and he doesn’t regret that. 

But Chris is tired of it, too. He's restless to move onto something different with his life. With every passing day it gets harder and harder to fake that smile when he talks about it. Even if the show stays, he's not sure that he will. He’s not sure if this is the right place for him anymore. He’s not alone, but he is lonely; he’s not miserable, but he’s not really happy, either. 

He doesn’t know what _more_ even means at this point, he just knows that’s what he wants: more out of his life what what there is right now.


	3. Chapter 3

Chris sleeps on the plane ride to New Mexico and spends the Uber drive from the airport to his apartment checking email on his phone. By the time the car pulls up in front of the building, he's responded to everything that might actually be half as urgent as the subject line makes it seem. 

He tips the driver for helping him haul his two large suitcases inside and then looks around. He's there before Darren, which was a calculated move. It may be immature, but he likes the idea of taking time to establish himself somewhere. 

He checks the bedrooms and puts his bags in the best one. There's not really much difference, but it's slightly bigger, with a desk and further away from the front door. He pulls out his computer and plugs it in to charge, then abandons the rest of his suitcases to be unpacked later. 

There are four six-packs of beer in the fridge and the cabinets of his temporary apartment are freshly stocked with enough junk food that Chris feels like he's going to gain five pounds just by looking at the bags and boxes. 

There are also four cases of Diet Coke, proving that, while there still isn't a God, there is still at least still something to be said for humanity. He cracks one open and gulps half like a drowning man offered liquid redemption, only making a face at the ticklish burn after he's done. 

He finishes the drink off and heads for the shower. 

*

By the time Darren gets there the next day, Chris has his clothes in the closet and his toiletries spread around the bathroom. He's enjoyed twenty hours of solitude, ten of which were spent solidly asleep, and he feels recharged and ready to face whatever's coming his way. 

Darren does not come in with a burst of energy, though. He slinks in looking half-asleep. 

"Are you hungover?" Chris asks. He's stretched out on the couch with his laptop in his lap and the television playing the cheesiest reality show he could find. 

Darren's heaving sigh is all the answer Chris needs. "It was a rough night." 

"What happened to being done sowing your wild oats?"

"It was my brother's birthday." Darren leaves his bag - just one - by the door and drops down onto the sofa beside Chris's feet. His whole body just sort of slumps like he has no control over his posture. 

Chris isn't actually sure how he's even staying upright. "Isn't he married? With kids?" 

"Yeah, apparently he felt like getting back in touch with his misspent youth." 

"When you had a plane to catch the next morning?" 

"Right? But he didn't give a fuck. He and his buddies rented a house, they got to sleep it off this morning while I had to drag my sorry ass out to the airport. I thought I was gonna hurl when I walked past the McDonalds on the way to my gate." Darren laughs weakly. "I'm not as good at this as I used to be." 

"You're getting old," Chris points out. "You could go sleep it off now." 

"Yeah," Darren says, breathing deeply again. "Yeah, I'm gonna just. Do that." 

Chris watches him walk away, uneasy and disappointed for reasons he isn't really comfortable even trying to put his finger on. 

* 

The groove of filming isn't without its stumbling blocks, but Chris welcomes having something to do with his time. Yeah, he'd rather be home, but since he's not, he needs something to take his mind off of... 

Well, he's not even sure what he needs his mind taken off of, but distractions are still good. He has lines to learn and scenes to run and costumes to be fitted for and stunts to practice. 

They're getting started with a bang, too - a literal one. The abandoned government facility that the team is investigating has a bomb buried in it and they don't quite manage to get it diffused in time. One of the more popular recurring regulars is about to bite the dust, so on top of running and ducking and covering and reacting to fake explosions they also have to end the week with some emotional teary goodbyes. 

The fans will appreciate how the normally more stoic Aiden clings to Bay in the aftermath. Chris already knows Darren can act the hell out of the emotional stuff, too. He has a way of turning what would be outlandish exaggeration for anyone else into something so genuine to watch. Chris can manage quiet dignity and hurt but even under the guise of acting he's uncomfortable showing that much. 

It is a well written exit, Chris has to admit. Even Grant has to admit it, as sad as he is that this paycheck is about to come to an end. 

("You'll always have residuals," Chris had said, patting him on the back. 

Grant had just laughed and reminded him, "And conventions.") 

"Come on." Darren bumps into him, elbow barely even registering through the safety vest Chris is wearing. "Days like this are fun, aren't they?" 

Chris looks down at the fake gun in his hand, the fake blood smears on his arms, then over at Darren. Bay's t-shirt is ripped and he's got red staining the side where shrapnel has hit him. He has to limp the entire last scene they're working on, leaning into Aiden. 

"Yeah, I guess this isn't too bad. Bet you're really enjoying it," Chris teases. "They even let you have a gun." 

"Hey, I'm a lover, not a fighter." Bayani doesn't usually get out of the his little geek cave set but for this movie they're shaking all the things up.

"Lover?" Chris smirks. "We haven't gotten those script pages yet." 

"Oh, but you know it's coming." Darren chugs the rest of his bottle of water and tosses the empty at a garbage can. 

"Let's just hope you really are better at the loving than the fighting, then." Chris looks him over. "You kind of got your ass kicked." 

Darren clearly doesn't feel the need to defend his alter ego. "We can't all have ninja-like reflexes. Just wait til someone needs a password cracked. Then I'm your main man."

"Still want them to actually explain how that works." It's a discussion they've had before. 

"My running theory is that Bay just has a mental database of everyone in the world's first pet and mother's maiden name," Darren says. "So he just resets it using the security questions." 

"Well, that's not a waste of a state of the art computer database or anything." Chris rolls his eyes. 

"Aw, don't make fun of S.U.E. like that!" In a moment of pure character bleed, Darren sounds genuinely defensive of the made up computer system. 

"You do realize the computer isn't actually a character, right?" Becca asks. She's got a fake cut on her cheek and her ponytail is artfully mussed. "Your attachment to it is unnatural." 

"I already called dibs on it when we break the set down." 

“That’s going to take up an entire room in your house,” Becca says. 

“Your point?” Darren finishes off his second water bottle. It's a hot day outside and none of them are sweaty just for show. "It won’t be until we wrap on season twenty seven. By that point I’ll have banked enough from being on the show that long that I’ll be able to give up an entire room to my technological baby." 

"Oh my god, shoot me now." Becca groans. "Like anyone would even want to see our decrepit senior citizen asses fighting aliens." 

"Maybe the aliens age at the same rate as us," Chris offers. "So at least they'd be equally old." 

"Shadow Grove: The Retirement Generation." Darren laughs. 

"Or maybe they really will just Star Trek it and give us all kids. You know they were toying with that dudes having babies storyline..." 

"Not the mama!" Chris and Darren say at the exact same time. 

This is not the first time the writers have threatened with that particular storyline, nor is it the first time Chris and Darren have actually had this argument. 

"Awww, but he'll be so cute," Becca coos at them. "Little baby Clack!" 

"Okay, first of all," Darren says. "If we had a baby, fuck yes it would be adorable. And second of all, we already vetoed the whole Clack thing. It would definitely be Baby Carter-Black." 

"You realize you get no say in what the internet thinks, right?" Becca plops down in Chris's lap. "I mean, the wild, untameable masses have decided." 

"Because someone blabbed at a convention." Chris stares pointedly at Darren. 

"Gee, wonder who that was?" Becca snickers. 

"Well, we know who it wasn't." Darren stares right back. "You gonna join the rest of us slumming it on the paid circuit if the show does end? Or can they still not afford you?" 

Just like that, the mood of the moment goes from harmless to tense. Chris gives Darren a tight smile. "Well, I guess they can't." 

Becca proves her worth as a friend, giving Darren a haughty look. "But the fans get to see him for free when they show up to buy his books." 

Darren's right back to normal in an instant. "Right, right." Then he changes the subject, asking Becca about what modeling gigs she has coming up next. Her professional persona outside of the show, all high fashion and runways and photoshoots, is night and day to the kick-ass rebel group leader she plays on the show. 

Chris tunes the conversation out. The only reason he doesn't actually get up is because Becca's still a solid weight in his lap, her arm across the back of his neck trapping him there, pressing ever so slightly when he acts like he's about to move. 

She wants him to stay for a reason. He's annoyed, but eventually Darren gets a phone call and leaves. As soon as he's gone, she steals the vacated chair. "You guys are so gonna end up fucking." 

Chris almost chokes on his own spit. "I'm sorry?" 

"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I won't be there to witness the explosive sexual tension being consummated. If you break a bed, you seriously have to take pictures. Actually, take pictures even if you don't break anything. Take video. Maybe we can set up a live stream? I mean, if nothing else, there's your fall back career-" 

"Stop talking!" Chris orders. 

"Oh, come on!" She actually laughs at him. "You realize he's terrified that once this show wraps he'll literally never see you again, right?" 

"That's - that's not-" Chris stumbles over his words. "You're wrong." 

"You don't think it's a little strange that he's going along with this dating thing so willingly? Or that he just point blank asked you if you were gonna start traveling and doing events with the rest of the cast if the show ends?" Becca shakes her head at him. "Look, I'll be the voice of audience exposition once in a while, but seriously. You two need to figure this out on your own. Even if my fetish for dude-banging is giving me a bias on the whole sexual tension scope, my point still stands. He's going to miss you." 

They're called back on set to run through the explosion one more time. 

* 

The studio has arranged for a car to pick them up in the mornings and drop them off back home, though Darren already rented one for himself when he landed at the airport. 

Chris finds himself alone for the ride back. Darren's got dinner plans with some of the cast, and though he invited Chris it was more of a formality than anything. 

At least, Chris is pretty sure it is. It's always a formality when they ask him, and not even one they maintain with any real consistency. He hears the stories on set the next day or finds the drunken photos posted on the set bulletin board, the more embarrassing ones taped to people's trailer doors, and he gets it. 

He's tempted to avoid the common areas so he won't have to see Darren come in, but he forces himself to accept that he is an adult and hiding in his bedroom hasn't been acceptable behavior since he was a teenager. 

He does put headphones in, but he even takes those out after a few minutes. He manages to lose himself in writing and actually not check the clock every few minutes, which feels like a victory. 

It also means he genuinely jumps when he hears the door open. "Shit," he says. "You scared me." 

"Sorry, man!" Darren apologizes. His eyes look slightly glassy, and Chris knows what that means. He actually is a little jealous on that count. Talk about things that would make the whole summer easier to deal with... 

"No problem." Chris glances at the clock. "Have fun?" 

"Oh, it was great, we hit this sweet little Thai place. You should have come." 

"Yeah," Chris says absently. "Maybe next time." 

Darren pauses. "Seriously, though. You should have come." 

"Why?" Chris looks up at him. 

Darren just stares back, then sighs and shrugs, looking momentarily defeated before he walks into his bedroom. 

Shit. Darren wants to be his friend. 

Chris grabs his phone and texts Becca. 

* 

Because Chris always needs a day or two to process anything on an emotional level, he doesn't end up saying anything to Darren for a couple more days. It gives him plenty of time to plan out exactly how he'll approach the topic, and plenty of time to work up a grade school playground level of nerves.

In the end, it goes something like this: 

"Hey." Chris catches Darren in the hall, between the bathroom and his bedroom. 

"Hey," Darren says, then immediately follows it with: "Dude, if you were going in there, I'd give it a few minutes. Burritos for lunch, man. That decision is still haunting my bowels." 

Chris snorts. "Uh, no, I wasn't - no. But thanks for the warning." 

"No problem." Darren lingers, looking at him curiously now. "So... did you need something?" 

"Yeah." Chris nods. "Yeah, I - Thai." 

"Tie?" Darren tilts his head. 

"No, Thai - food. That Thai place you said was good. We should go." 

The angle of the head tilt increases exponentially. He looks a little like a confused puppy. "We?" 

"Me and you?" Chris asks. "Us." 

"Seriously?" Darren starts to look excited. 

It makes Chris feel good. He sees Darren reacting to people like this all the time, bouncing off the walls and looking thrilled to be making plans. He can't remember the last time it was really directed at him. "Seriously."

"You're gonna love it," Darren says. "When did you want to go check it out?" 

"Tomorrow night?" Chris suggests. 

"Awesome, man, awesome." 

They keep standing there in the hallway, a few feet apart, just looking at each other. Darren's smiling, and... so is Chris. 

"Okay," Chris says with a little laugh. "I'm gonna..." 

He jerkily gestures with his thumb to his own bedroom door behind him. He hears Darren laugh, too, a silent admission that the moment was strange. 

Strange, but maybe not so bad. 

* 

Except that the next day is exhausting for all of them. It's sixteen straight hours of filming and by the time they pour themselves into the car to head back to their apartment, neither of them feels like moving - much less going out to eat. 

They look at each other, a quiet debate as to who is gonna bring it up first. 

Darren cracks. "Order in?" 

"God, yes," Chris says. "Dibs on the shower, though." 

They're both covered in grime and dirt. Endless, endless amounts of dirt. Darren winces every time he moves. "I'm pretty sure my balls got road rash," he announces. 

Chris is so glad the driver service they use considers discretion a priority. "I just have half the desert coating mine." 

"All those fans that hound us for more behind the scenes shit… this is the sexiness that they’re missing. Wake me up when we get there." Darren drops his head back against the seat, and to Chris's amazement is actually snoring within minutes. 

The idea of just leaving him is tempting for Chris, but he does wake Darren up. "I don't know how you do that," Chris complains as he follows Darren in. "Do you even feel rested if you only sleep for ten minutes? I'm not sure I could manage to close my eyes in that amount of time." 

"Naps are easy," Darren says. "But my body gets all weird if I try to sleep for more than a few hours. I just wake up." 

It's the first time Chris has ever heard Darren mention having any problem sleeping. "Really?" He asks. "You take something?" 

Darren shrugs. "I've got Ambien but that fucks your shit up." 

"I'm on that," Chris says. "I take it almost every night." 

"No shit?" Darren asks. "Do you-" 

"Sleep walk," Chris says. "I haven't been taking it since we got here, actually. I didn't want to risk you finding me in the kitchen with a knife at night." 

"I'd probably just assume you got tired of my shit once and for all." Darren pushes the door open. 

"No, that's when you find me in the kitchen with a knife in broad daylight." Chris corrects him. "If it's night, then I'm probably sleepwalking." 

"Should we be getting safety locks for the cabinets?" Darren teases him. 

"To be honest, my laptop is the only thing I need locked when I'm on Ambien," Chris admits. "I sleep shop, too." 

"Sleep... shop?" 

Chris nods his head, shame etched onto his face. "I once bought an entire set of ceramic dolphin figurines." 

"Well, dolphins are-" 

"They were rainbow colored." 

"-super gay." 

"Super, super gay. I know I'm pretty gay, but that's - no one is that gay." Chris shakes his head. "My sister loved them, though." 

"See? The Ambien was just leading you to be a good brother, that's all." 

"The Ambien is evil, but it's also my best friend. Okay, showering. You order food." He points at Darren. "I'm good with whatever, I'll try anything. And if I don't like it, I'll steal yours." 

“Ooh, playing dirty,” Darren shouts after him as Chris closes the bathroom door behind him. 

*

Chris feels a thousand times better when he emerges from the shower, changing into sweatpants and a tank top. He keeps his wallet out so he can pay, and it’s a good thing because the food arrives before Darren is out. 

It feels strange but comfortable to Chris, paying for someone else’s food, casually waiting in a dressed down state for someone to join him for dinner. 

“I could eat a fucking horse,” Darren announces, walking into the little dining area. “We eating here, or do you want to be lazy asses on the couch and watch some tv?” 

“Couch.” Chris grabs his carry out container and a drink. “Find something on?” 

“No way,” Darren says. “I remember how you are with the remote. That’s totally your domain.” 

“How I am?” Chris asks. 

“Yeah. If someone else turns something on and you don’t want to watch it, you get all fidgety and just snark at whatever’s on. You totally pick it apart,” Darren explains. “I mean, it’s funny, unless you’re the person who had the remote. Then you just feel like shit.” 

“I… make people feel like shit?” Chris frowns. 

“Aw, not seriously or anything, I just mean - shit, I stuck my foot in it, didn’t I?” Darren gives him a sheepish laugh. “I just mean you care more about what you watch than most people.” 

Chris does recall how annoying it would be to turn the tv on and then have everyone talk over it, or have someone turn it on halfway through a movie and not care that they didn’t know what was going on, or a tv series a season ahead of something Chris is still catching up on… 

He snatches the remote from Darren. “Fine. I’ll pick.” 

* 

They make it almost an hour before Darren's phone rings. 

"Gotta take this," he says, not even looking over at Chris as he bounces up out of his seat and heads into the bedroom. 

Chris sighs, staring ahead and the television. Yeah, that's about how he expected it to go. 

He turns the tv off after a few minutes and he's about to head into his room to maybe get some writing done when Darren actually comes back out of his room. 

"Whoa, where you going?" Darren asks, frowning. 

Chris shrugs. "You seemed like you had better things to do." He nods down at the phone in Darren's hand. 

He knows he probably sounds a little less happy-go-lucky than he was a few minutes ago, but he hates this feeling he gets around Darren. 

"Why do I feel like every time we get close to being friends, I end up failing some test I didn't even know I was taking?" Darren raises one hand in frustration, then lets it fall limply back by his side. 

"Why do I feel like every time we get close to being friends I end up being reminded that I'm not as important as whoever is calling, or texting, or just happens to walk in the room?" 

Chris doesn't mean to answer but the words fly out of his mouth before he can think twice about it, hanging there between them once he's done. Darren opens his mouth like he's going to say something, then stops. 

Darren Criss, speechless. And whoever said Chris doesn't have talent? He's sure not many people have managed to accomplish that before. 

"Wow," Darren finally says. "Okay. For real?"

Chris shrugs. The urge to apologize is strong, but curiosity over what will happen if he doesn't wins out. 

Darren looks down at his phone, then turns around and tosses it through the opened doorway behind him. It makes a muted thud when it hits what must be his bed. 

"There," Darren says. "We'll hang out. Just us." 

"Why?" Chris asks. "Why does it matter so much?" 

"Because..." Darren seems to struggle to find the words again. Twice in one night. Chris is going down in the history books for this one. "Because I like you. You're such an awesome guy and... I've always liked to surround myself with the coolest fucking people I can find. And you're one of them. But I could tell you didn't really want any fucking thing to do with me, so I just laid off after a while." 

"You're seriously telling me that you've wanted to be friends with me for four years and just haven't?" Chris is actually in disbelief. 

"You're like a puzzle I couldn't crack," Darren says. "And I don't know what happened but one day you just seemed to go from being my buddy to being just like, I don't know, this guy who looked like he couldn't stand even being in the same room with me." 

God damn those earnest eyes of Darren's. 

"I don't... operate like you," Chris finally says. "I don't have a ton of friends." 

"Yeah, I know," Darren says. "I guess that's what made it even more frustrating." 

"I was a challenge?" Chris asks dryly. 

"Well, yeah, but it wasn't really about that," Darren tries to argue. 

"Don't worry," Chris says. He's drawing this out enough, he won't make Darren squirm just for that remark. "It's fine. But what I mean is, I just... every time you invited me to hang out, there were so many... other people." 

It sounds lame to Chris, cringe-worthy and awkwardly worded, but he sees some sense of understanding dawn on Darren's face. "Wow, so am I really that much of an ass? Like, if at any point I'd just made it one on one..." 

Chris shrugs. "I'm not saying things would be all that different." 

"Yeah." Darren laughs and shakes his head. "I think it would have. But you couldn't just say?" 

"You were also always inviting me to do things I just don't like to do," Chris points out. "I'm not saying it's your fault entirely. I never... well, that's not true, I did try to get you to do things with me but they were always..." 

He looks over at the couch and the tv. 

"They were what?" Darren asks. 

Chris waves a hand. "They were this. I would-" The words are hard to say, like he's showing Darren a side of him he doesn't entirely trust Darren with. "I would ask you to hang out. But it was always... at home. Just, us, talking, whatever. And you'd end up... getting a better offer." 

"I guess I don't really think about just chilling at home as plans," Darren admits. "I figured you were just bored and didn't mind company. Not like you were specifically asking me to do stuff." 

Chris tries to force the sudden swell of embarrassment building in his chest, almost panic in how it makes his heart pound. "Of course you didn't." 

"So, wow." Darren looks Chris up and down. "We were totally just reading each other wrong." 

"I guess," Chris says. He reaches up to push his hair back from his face where it's fallen from the gel and spray hold applied so, so many hours ago. "But, oh well. It's all ancient history now, right?" 

"No," Darren says, surprisingly emphatic. "No, because I wanna - fix it." 

"We just covered this," Chris says. "You get bored just hanging out one on one, and I don't like going out with you and all your groups of friends." 

"I never said I get bored," Darren says. "I just didn't realize... well, I was a fucking idiot, okay? I didn't realize that's where I was fucking up. Is it... I don't know... too late?" 

"Too late for what?" Chris asks. 

"Us." Darren holds his hands up, shrugging his shoulders cutely. "For us to be friends?" 

"I guess it's not," Chris says.

"Awesome." Darren holds his arms out. "Hug?" 

Chris feels ridiculous right up until the moment Darren's arms close tight around him. How long has it been since he had a hug from Darren? And how did he forget how Darren just gives the absolute best hugs? How Darren really goes for it, embracing tightly and even rocking side to side a little, tucking his face right up against Chris's neck, acting absolutely shameless about the complete lack of personal space he allows whoever he's hugging? 

It's how badly he wants to never let go that pushes Chris to pull back first. He immediately feels cold and sad and a little hollow, but Darren doesn't fight it. 

What he does do is push Chris toward the tv. "Now, come on, I want to know what happens next." 

*

The first time it really sinks in that they're doing this, they're actively tricking their entire fanbase for the purpose of viewership, is when Chris finds a plane ticket waiting in his inbox. It's eight pm on a Friday night and the flight he's been booked on leaves out of Albuquerque at ten the next morning. 

Darren's in the kitchen already when Chris walks in. "Did you get-" 

"LA, 24 hour trip?" Darren nods. "Got 'em. Apparently we're hitting the red carpet." 

"Together." Chris repeats it dully. 

"Yep." There's an awkward moment where neither of them actually look straight at each other. "I heard this movie was pretty good. I'm buddies with the AD. And, you know. The star." 

"You're buddies with everyone," Chris says, though his voice only has the absolute default amount of snap to it. "What are we supposed to wear? I didn't bring any event clothes, and we don't have time to stop." 

Darren shrugs. "I don't know about you, but my stylist is gonna have something waiting for me. They said I'd have a room to change in." 

"I'll have to call and check," Chris sighs and stares at his phone. "They didn't even ask us." 

"I think they gave about as much wiggle room as they wanted to." Darren doesn't look thrilled about it either, at least. "We're kind of dropping the ball. We haven't like... done much." 

It's true. Besides a couple of lunches out, they haven't. "Oh yeah, we were too busy with, what's it called, filming a movie?" 

"I'm not the enemy here," Darren reminds him. "At least we got some heads up. I hate it when they put me on a plane with like two hours notice." 

"I would castrate the person that tried," Chris says. But he doesn't do a ton of events anyway. He's not a fan of those spur of the moment interviews... "Shit. Are they expecting us to actually do the red carpet?" 

"Well, probably." Darren puts his coffee mug down. "But you can always slip in the back if you want. You know they're gonna ask about us, if we get shit for not both interviewing we'll just point out that if only one of us answer questions there's less a chance that we'll fuck it up." 

"Okay." Chris feels better for that, at least. "I guess I better go pack." 

* 

There are photographers at the airport. Not in Albuquerque, but at LAX where they normally pop up in droves. Chris feels intensely uncomfortable, looking down as Darren waves. He wonders what Darren would do if he was alone, if he would stop and chat, pose for pictures... 

But all Darren does this time is lean in and crack a joke about a scarf one of them is wearing. Laughing is a nice release from the nervous tension that doesn't abate until they're past security where they're relatively anonymous. They do get a couple of lingering looks but Chris is much more okay with that. 

Darren doesn't even tease him much about how uncomfortable the whole process of traveling actually makes Chris. He does better when he's alone for some reason, but the nerves combined with the anxiety that comes with someone else watching him and seeing his reactions to things just magnifies it all. 

He's glad they didn't have any baggage at least. The flight itself was nonstop and just under two hours, and since he did manage to arrange for a suit to be waiting for him he only has to pack his necessary-for-life electronics and something to sleep in and wear on the flight back the next day. 

"You know," Darren says, as they sit in the back of the hired car. "I had a feeling something was up when I realized we both had two actual days off." 

"I just thought someone really, really loved us." Chris sighs. "I should have known better, I guess."

"That really is probably the most naive thing I've ever heard you say." Darren is on his phone as they talk, but so is Chris. 

"Is there anyone here you've slept with that I should know about?" Chris asks, deleting the emails he knows there’s no point in even opening. They’re mostly from his mother. 

"Uh..." Darren actually thinks about it. "I don't think so. You?" 

Chris snorts. "It's cute how you think I have a sex life." 

"Hey, you've totally slept with..." Darren thinks again. "Four people that I know of, in the time we've been together." 

"Four in four years. Oh my god, stop the presses." Chris feigns shock.

"Yeah but you dated two of them for a while!" 

"Do you really want to play a numbers comparison game?" Chris asks. “Also, it’s creepy that you keep a mental tally of the people I’ve slept with.” 

Darren shuts up. Almost. He tries, at least. "I don't think I've been with nearly as many people as you think I have." 

"I think I don't care either way. I just wanted to make sure I wouldn't run into angry exes who I think I'm fucking you now." 

Darren looks up from his phone to answer. "Well, there were lots of rumors about me and Colton, but we never actually fooled around. It was more like... solidarity, you know? We were both in our twenties, in the closet when we first started out. We didn't know shit and we got pushed around by a lot of people who wanted us to be anyone but ourselves. But he was seeing someone that whole time. He didn't even really come out til he got married."

"That does sound rough," Chris admits. "I never really had to worry about that. I used to be bitter about it, though." 

"I can't say which way is better," Darren says. "I mean, yeah, I had a choice. But everyone wanted me to make the choice that didn't feel right to me. And I let them convince me for a while. Then there was the bullshit over 'pick one, are you gay or straight.' Like bisexuality just isn't a thing people can wrap their minds around." 

"They actually told you that you had to be gay or straight?" Chris is dumbfounded. 

"Yep. And when I was dating a girl, the argument was all - well what does you being bi have to do with your life right now? Like sexuality ceases to be a thing depending on who you're dating. I'm not gay when I'm with a dude and straight when I'm with a girl. I'm bi either way." 

"You don't seem to date guys a lot, though," Chris points out. He's always been curious, though never had an opportunity to ask where it actually fit into the conversation. "If it's none of my business, just tell me to shut up."

"Nah, it's cool." Darren waves his hand casually. "Girls are just easier, I guess. I mean not like 'easy' but it's easier to meet girls that want a relationship. The guys I end up just casually coming across in my everyday life... it's more of a struggle. They know if they get spotted with me it'll be a scandal. Guy sleeps with girl, no big deal. Guy sleeps with guy, headlines all over the fucking place. There still aren't a whole lot of guys that I would just run into in my everyday life that are out and want to deal with it." 

"It's sad that even today it's like that," Chris says, briefly thinking of Max and that doomed-from-the-start relationship. 

Darren shrugs. "It is what it is." 

"I don't think I'd be so blase in your shoes." Chris shrugs. "I don't like the media prying into my life to begin with." 

Darren tilts his head and studies Chris. "So this whole summer really is miserable for you, isn't it?" 

Chris thinks about how to answer before he speaks. "What we're doing, the intention of this? Yes, I hate it. But the actual summer - it's not that bad, so far." 

It's as close as he'll get to openly admitting that he's enjoying getting to know Darren a little better in this situation where it's just them. 

Darren accepts it with a smile. "Yeah. Just what I was thinking." 

* 

Darren's red carpet plan actually plays out pretty well. They're photographed getting out of the car near valet, but Chris gets someone to escort him inside while Darren heads for the interview line. By the time Darren's done, Chris is mingling inside with a half-empty champagne glass in his hand. 

"I need one of those," Darren says, then twists to swipe one off a passing server's tray. "Shit, my eyes are killing me." 

Chris frowns. "Do you have those drops?" 

Darren produces it from his pocket. "Yeah. Cameras just always get me like that. So fucking many flashes." 

"You want to just go inside already?" Chris asks. "It's dark in the theater." 

"Nah." Darren tips his head back and puts the drops in, then fishes in his pocket for a couple of pills. 

"I don't think you're supposed to take those with alcohol," Chris points out wryly. 

Darren shrugs. "If I faint, you'll just have to come to my rescue." 

"You definitely overestimate how much I care." 

"Nah. You're a softie." Darren pokes at him teasingly. 

Chris doesn't realize the photographer is right on them until he sees a flash. There's a wild flare of momentary panic - what is that picture going to catch? Him smiling at Darren? He feels protective of his momentary relaxation, like he lost some kind of game. 

Darren must see his annoyance rising. Chris and photographers have never really gotten along that well. He spares a few seconds just to greet the photographer and avoid any unflattering captions, then rests his hand on the small of Chris's back to guide them pointedly away. "You know, I think you were right about the theater being dark and all. Going inside sounds great, actually." 

It's a nice gesture, though they don't actually make it into the screening room of the theater for another half an hour. They get stopped by a couple of people to chat and then by Colton himself. Chris can't exactly fault Darren for not brushing him off, since it's his premiere. 

Chris has met Colton a few times. They even went out for a couple of the same parts. Chris doesn't really hold a grudge, since Colton never got any of them anyway either. They're not friends, not buddies the same way Darren and Colton are, but Chris doesn't envy that. He's never been one for Hollywood friendships. 

There are a lot of things he's not 'one for' - much to Alla's constant frustration. He still hasn't managed to get in touch with her, so she's probably operating under the same 'forgiveness is easier to get than permission' edict that Chris himself uses now and then. 

He steps back when a photographer wants pictures of Colton and Darren, intending on staying out of the way - but Darren holds his hand out. "Come on, some with you, too." 

It's part of the plan, Chris reminds himself, and steps in beside Darren. Darren puts his arm around Chris, lower across his back so that his fingers curl around Chris's hip. A quick glance over shows that the arm Darren has around Colton is nice and platonically across his shoulders, even with Colton being a couple inches taller. 

The photographer lets them go and this time they actually make it into the theater. 

*

There's an after-party following the premiere. It's another two hours of sipping drinks and making small talk and having their photos taken. 

Chris actually runs into someone he knows. He's just gathered his and Darren's coats and he's waiting on Darren to come back from talking to someone. 

"Christopher!" He and Ashley have drifted over the years, but they used to be close back in their twenties. He can't actually remember the last time he'd seen her, but clearly she thinks there's still a level of comfort and familiarity there. She punches him in the shoulder and scolds. "You didn't even tell me you were back in town!"

"I'm not, not really," he says, rubbing his arm. He really needs to stop making friends with girls who confuse affection with light violence. "I'm only in town for the premiere." 

Darren's across the room somewhere. Chris has lost track of him in the throng, but Darren keeps coming back to find him.

Chris is sure it's just because they need to sell the act. 

"Are you here for someone in the cast?" She asks. 

"Not... really," Chris says. "I'm here with-" 

"Hey, got you another drink." Darren appears as if out of nowhere, smiling at Ashley. "Hey, Fink!" 

"Criss." She nods at him, a little cool and a lot curious. 

And then Chris remembers the last time he actually saw her - when he came from Los Angeles after season one, suffering a bruised ego and a crush he was determined to get over. 

No wonder she finds this strange. But instead of feeling awkward, Chris actually steps closer to Darren. There's something ego-driven in him that wouldn't mind her thinking he actually ended up with the guy. 

She seems to accept the mislead of a confirmation being shared wordlessly between them, because she just smirks and shakes her head a little at Chris. "You got time for breakfast with me?" 

"We can't," Chris says. Darren seems amused at how smoothly Chris works that in. "Our flight back is pretty early." 

"Yeah, we were actually just about to head back to the hotel." Darren rests his hand on the back of Chris's arm. "I just called our driver. He wants us outside waiting." 

"Sure." Chris turns to Ashley, giving her a frown that's actually a little bit genuine. "Next time I'm in town, I promise." 

"Well, you have to give me a call, anyway, okay? No bullshit, I want to hear all about your life." She reaches out and hugs him. He squeezes her back, not really sad to be saying goodbye but missing the friendship they had. 

Once they're in the car, Darren takes his jacket from Chris and shrugs it on. "Sorry for pulling you away, I just figured that was risky." 

"Not that I entirely mind, since I am actually exhausted, but how was it risky?" 

Darren shrugs. "I mean, we haven't talked about what we'll tell people - how we got together and all. And since she's someone you used to talk to a lot, I figured... she's gonna want all the dirt." 

"And you didn't want us to confuse our stories. Right." It makes sense. "Oh, well. She'll just thinks we were really eager to get back for some tawdry hotel room sex." 

"Uh, you know we aren't going to a hotel, right?" Darren says. "I've got a place in LA." 

"Oh." Chris hadn't even thought to ask. 

"I mean, if you really want to get a room I'm sure we can hook you up with one. I just figured..." 

"No, no." Chris shakes his head. "You're right. That'd be way easier." 

Darren seems relieved. "I have a guest room. And I'm pretty sure no one else is already sleeping in it." 

"... you don't know?" 

"I let a lot of people crash at my place." Darren shrugs. "My friends pretty much know it's an open door policy if they need to be in town for something." 

"First of all, you are way too trusting. Second of all, I'm definitely going to need clean sheets." 

Darren laughs. "Someone comes in every week to put those on and make sure the place isn't a wreck, don't worry." 

"You pay to have a house cleaned that you don't even live in?" 

“... it sounds bad when you say it like that.” Darren grins. 

“It’s bad whether I say it like that or not.” 

The house doesn't strike him as particularly full of personality - at least not Darren's personality - but given how little time Darren probably spends here, that makes sense. 

"You want a drink or something?" Darren asks, dumping his overnight bag on the floor by the door and heading into the kitchen. Chris trails along beside, setting his own bag more gently down beside him. 

"I'm fine. Tired, actually." He doesn't realize how true it is until the moment he says it. It's been a long day, and people just... exhaust him. 

Darren nods. "That's cool. I'm gonna get some studio time in, I think. I'm still kind of wired. But come on, I'll show you where everything is." 

Chris gets a short tour, only really making note of the bathroom and - with faint curiosity - Darren's bedroom, with the door half ajar. But he doesn't press for much more. He's in that strange place of almost sensory overload, where he feels like his nerves are frazzled and he's slightly out of place with the rest of the world. 

Darren shows him to his guest room and says goodnight with a quiet, "Just come find me if you need me." 

The guest room is, as Darren promised, freshly cleaned with sheets that still look crisp. Chris expects (well, hopes) to be out like a light as soon as his head hits the sheets but of course that doesn't happen. The minute Chris gets under the covers it's like someone hits the on switch in his mind. Thoughts blur and twirl and spin together, insecurities and awkward memories, all the things he tries so hard to escape and pretend like don't bother him during the waking hours. 

He tries, tossing and turning, for over an hour before he gets up. His throat is a little dry; maybe water will help. He's glad when Darren isn't in the kitchen but realizes after a moment of quietly sipping from an unopened bottle of water he found in the fridge that he can actually hear Darren - or at least music he assumes is coming from Darren, though it seems strangely faint. Chris decides to follow the noise, bare feet padding along a hardwood floor. The house is one level and he tracks the music to a room at the end of the hall. The door is only very faintly open, just a sliver of light coming through. 

Chris pushes it open. He sees immediately why the sound was so quiet; the room is insulated, soundproof. There's a fairly impressive setup of recording equipment and enough instruments that Chris's jaw genuinely drops a little.

He waits until Darren finishes, or at least hits a lull where he's only staring down at the keys, to ask: "Do you play all of those?" 

He seems to have caught Darren off guard. "Shit. you scared me." 

"Sorry." Chris stays in the doorway. "I couldn't sleep." 

"I left the door open in case you needed something." Darren pushes back from the piano but stays seated in front of it. "And yeah, these are all mine. Half of them I've had since high school." 

"Your parents bought you all this when you were in high school?" 

Darren shrugs. "Yeah, they're kind of loaded." 

"Guess that makes sense. Probably made an acting career easier." Chris only realizes afterward that the remark might off come off a little bitter, but Darren takes it in stride. 

"It did, I guess. I mean, I definitely had my folks watching out for me and spotting me cash when I needed it. I still tried to make it on my own, though," Darren explains. "I had an allowance until I was, I don't know, twenty three? Twenty four? Until I got my first tv break, and then I did some voiceover work until I got my next role... and I ended up sticking with that show til it ended." 

"The uh, the Murphy one?" Chris asks. 

"Yeah." Darren cracks a little grin. "It was such a shitshow but it was good work. Got to do a lot of wicked scary stuff."

Chris laughs. "I remember trying to watch it once. Too creepy for me."

"I like scary movies. Hey, come get comfy." Darren pats the bench seat beside him. "So yeah, up until I landed that my parents were helping me out. They could afford it and they wanted me and Chuck to be able to, you know, chase our dreams." 

Chris hesitates, sparing a thought toward the bed waiting for him and how heavy his limbs still feel, but he knows he won't have any more luck sleeping now. He crosses the room and sits beside Darren. 

"My parents helped me some," Chris says. "But they didn't have a whole lot extra. Hannah's medical bills were... insane. They still are. I don't think my parents would have given me more money even if they had it, though. They like to say now that they supported me but the truth was they didn't have a whole lot of time to even think about me."

"Ouch." Darren plays with the keys, tinkling out something that actually comes across as sympathetic. Chris is slightly amazed. "But they didn't disapprove or anything?" 

"Not outright. I think they felt like they didn't have the right. They - my mom especially - she knew she spent so much time with Hannah, and she had to, I get it, but as a kid, even as a teenager... it still felt crappy sometimes." 

"Of course it did." Darren defends Chris's teenage self. "Every kid wants their parents to notice them." 

Chris gives him a tight smile of gratitude. "So they did what I asked, whenever they could, just to make up for it. They would drive me to auditions when I was in high school. Half the time I didn't even really give a fuck if I got the role or not. I just wanted a day with my mom or dad." 

"So what was the first role you actually landed?" Darren asks. 

"It was a pilot for this musical thing. Didn't go anywhere." Chris shrugs. "And that's probably good. I wasn't ready for it. Hell, I still feel like I'm in over my head. I can't even imagine trying to cope with it at eighteen." 

"Shit, you were eighteen and you landed a pilot?" Darren laughs. "That's badass." 

Chris allows himself to preen the tiniest bit. He's still proud of having gotten that. "I didn't get another role until I was twenty though. I was the actor working as a waiter cliche." 

"No shame," Darren says. "It's a cliche for a reason." 

"But I got a spot on a sitcom, got invited back a few times, one thing lead to another..." Chris waves his hand. "And then I got this show." 

There are so many years glossed over with that little sweeping motion, but Chris isn't about to share the rest: the months where he could barely pay rent, the attempt at writing and his dismal sales, the failed years spent trying to fund an indie picture he scripted, all of the doors slammed in his face and the endless repetition of no. He got just enough acting gigs to keep his resume looking fit to keep auditioning, but he didn't have Darren's ease of just landing on a tv show and then flitting from one to the next. 

His twenties were a decade spent trying desperately to make a place for himself in a town where he didn't fit any of the molds and they weren't all that keen on crafting new ones. 

"Well, I'm glad you did," Darren says. 

"What?" For a moment Chris can't even remember what Darren is responding to. 

"I'm glad you got cast on this show," Darren clarifies. "I'm glad you're my guy." 

Chris ducks his head away, unsettled by the phrasing. "I'm not-" 

"Bay's guy, I mean." Darren starts to play again for real, delving into something that makes Chris's skin prickle with tension. It's a melody that feels like a jolt of caffeine to his system, setting his heart tapping in double time. "I'm glad you're Bay's guy." 

"You talk about him like he's real." 

"He is." Darren's face is all intense concentration. "To people. You know, out there, in the ether. He's real to everyone he inspires. So is Aiden." 

"I don't think Aiden inspires anyone." Chris hates saying it. He hates conversations like these. He can put on a smile for a fan. He knows what the fan wants to hear. He knows what the interviewer wants to hear, what the publicists want him to say. 

But there's no reason to bullshit with Darren, or with any of the cast that are in the same place as him. 

"You're wrong." Darren slows the music just a fraction, lets it shift into something thoughtful. "We don't live in a world yet where out gay characters don't matter. You’re like fucking Dana Scully, okay?” 

“What?” Chris isn’t following. 

“I mean, when Gillian Anderson played her, little girls suddenly went whoa, hold the fuck up, we can be like that? We can be kickass action hero science badasses? And now gay kids can look at you and think the same thing.” 

"The representation matters," Chris says. "Aiden Black doesn't. Because he isn't real. Why don’t they pick real heroes?" 

"You're looking at it the wrong way, man. You always have." Darren's fingers fly. Chris can't tear his eyes away. "You're a little bit of him and he's a little bit of me." 

"I don't want to be inspirational for something I couldn't help," Chris finally says. "I was born gay. I didn't rise to that level. It's not something I accomplished." 

"No, what you accomplished is being born gay in a world where that still puts you at a disadvantage and saying fuck that, showing the whole goddamn world you can be what you want to be and no amount of hate or shit flung at you will stop you." 

"But I wasn't - trying." Chris rests his head in his hands. "I want to be known for things I did, not things that happened to me." 

"But not giving up is something you did," Darren argues. He stops playing all of a sudden, swinging one leg over the piano bench so he's straddling it, facing Chris. "You really have issues taking compliments, you know that? So just listen and don't say anything until I'm done. You, being who you are, where you are, right now? That's inspirational. When people didn't listen to you, you shouted louder. When they tried to change you to fit a role, you made them change the role to fit you. You wanted to be a writer, so you're writing. You wrote a fucking episode of our show! Do you know how many other actors did that? None. You did, because you're talented, and you made people stand up and pay attention to your talent. You and I are so fucking different. I'll do pretty much anything anyone tells me to, because I always think - hey, they probably know best. I bend and sometimes I bend too far and it's left me in some shitty situations in life. But you don't." 

"I did, for this," Chris points out. 

"And I still don't know why," Darren admits. 

"I bend more than you think." Chris rolls his eyes at Darren's snicker. "Shut up, get your mind out of the gutter." 

"Well, your bendiness is a whole different kind of inspirational-" 

"Darren!" 

Darren holds his hands up, both of them laughing. "Sorry, sorry. Couldn't resist. But, seriously. I meant that. I meant every word of it." 

"I don't know why," Chris says. 

"You don't have to know why. You just have to believe that I know why." 

Chris shakes his head, but what comes out of his mouth is a quiet, somewhat confused, "Fine." 

Darren turns back to face the piano. "Do you play?" 

"Not since middle school," Chris says. "I hated it." 

"Well, in that case, I won't offer to teach you." Darren runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm tired, anyway. Maybe next time."

"I interrupted you before, I should leave you-" Chris gets up as he speaks. "I'm tired, too." 

"You sure?" Darren asks, looking up at Chris. 

Chris almost asks what Darren means. Is he sure he should leave, or is he sure he's tired? Then he decides the answer might be too dangerous. Things with Darren have always felt a little like a highwire act, too fueled by the strange adrenaline surge breathing the same air as Darren gives him. This feels like that same old game, only someone has yanked the safety net away. 

"I'll see you in the morning," Chris says, and goes back to his bed.


	4. Chapter 4

After they get back from Los Angeles, it’s clear that Darren is still trying to befriend Chris. The fact that he's trying is obvious because under normal circumstances there's no way he'd spend his lunch breaks in Chris's trailer with him, or choose to stay in more nights than he goes out. Chris realizes that Darren was telling the truth when he said he doesn't party as much, but he's still a fan of being out with a crowd of people. 

Chris is torn between actually enjoying the company and feeling like he’s somehow guilted Darren into this. He doesn’t really just _hang out_ with people often. Becca is probably his best friend now but they fell into a dynamic that works for them; texting, talking on set, lunches out and drunk nights now and then, but she’s not a friend who just casually crashes at his place for movie marathons and trivia game competitions. 

He’s had friends but he’s never had the kind of friendships he dreams about, where he could really feel comfortable enough to just sit around doing nothing with someone and not feel uncomfortable. He’s had boyfriends like that, but with a relationship comes a different kind of tension for Chris. Relationships make him anxious, but this - this is like all the best parts with none of the worst. 

So this, with Darren - it’s new and it’s odd, but it’s nice. 

*

Chris tries to return the favor. It means that more often than he ever has before, Chris is leaving his comfort zone and joining the cast when they decide it’s time to get up to trouble. He’s socially conscious enough to know that it’s the polite thing to do, and it also doesn’t hurt the facade they’re pulling off.

Within the span of two weeks he suddenly develops a social life. The combination of concern that the show will end soon and they’ll never be in a situation to hang out again combined with the boredom of all being removed from their homes and families and normal sets of friends means that almost every night one group of people or another is hitting the town. 

The cast becomes notorious for taking over the closest laser tag joint and Chris lets them talk him into it a couple of times. Becca emerges reigning champion and Darren sucks at it because his laugh gives him away every time he tries to hide. After a certain point, Darren just embraces the sucking at it and makes that his whole schtick. 

Chris has to record Becca's final moment of victory, where she stands over Darren's body with one heel on his chest and smirks and down at him. "Who’s your mama now?" 

"You!" Darren says weakly, clasping his hands together like he's praying. "You're my mama, Becca, you're my mama." 

"Damn straight." She nods in satisfaction and then allows him to get up. 

Chris does decently because no one is really looking for him. 

They go out to eat a lot, too. Lots of the cast and crew are sharing houses but with the hours they put in on set, no one wants to or has time to cook.

Chris is almost embarrassed to realize there are crew members he's worked with for years on the show but doesn't actually know anything about. They don't even act like it's that weird that he's there all of a sudden. One of the props girls actually pulls him aside to kiss him on the cheek and tell him how happy she is that he's around more. She makes a comment about Darren's influence and winks at him. The reminder of their minor deception makes Chris uncomfortable, but he still appreciates the sentiment. 

*

When Chris left home to try acting, his sister was still suffering the more debilitating side effects of her condition and hadn't taken his departure very easily. She'd cried, upset over losing her best friend and champion, her partner in crime. She'd made him absolutely swear that he'd come back to visit every time he could and call her every single day. 

He kept his word for probably that whole first year but as Chris met more people in Los Angeles and cobbled together a life there, and then as Hannah's health took an upswing in the following years after that - once a day was hard to manage.

He still makes it happen once a week, though. There have been precious few occasions where he didn't manage at least that, and so far this summer hasn't been too difficult. They've managed to work out times to talk between his even more hectic than normal shooting schedule and her summer class and work schedule, usually for phone conversations but once or twice to video chat. 

Tonight happens to be one of those nights where he's home and free before eight pm and she's already online. He grins at being able to pleasantly surprise her by starting the call. 

But two seconds in, she's the one surprising him. 

"You." She jabs her finger at the screen. "Are in trouble." 

"... why?" Chris asks. 

"Because you didn't tell me about this!" A link pops up in the chat field below the video screen. Chris clicks it and then immediately covers his face. It's a spread from the premiere talking about him and Darren... and their relationship. 

He looks back at the video window and finds Hannah crossing her arms and glaring. "Han..." Chris sighs. "It's just-" 

And he stops, because she's looking at him but she's also trying to hide a smile. Of course this makes her happy. She's only been hinting that she liked Darren a lot twice every phone call since he left. 

He realizes he doesn't want to admit to her that this isn't real. If it were anyone else he'd be angry at their over-investment in his life, but he can't be mad at Hannah. 

"It's just new," he admits, quietly. 

Her expression takes on the same level of sentimentality she gets when playing with puppies. 

"What's new?" Darren asks, passing through the room with his mouth full of the potato chips and his hand jammed halfway into the bag. He glances at Chris's computer screen and his face brightens. "Hey, my favorite girl!" 

Chris laughs and says to Hannah, "Just so you know, he calls every girl his favorite girl." 

"Fine, then." Darren puts the bag of chips down and brushes the grease from his fingertips onto his jeans before sitting down beside Chris and casually slinging an arm around him. "It's my favorite Colfer!" 

Hannah laughs harder. 

"Okay," Chris admits. "That one is probably true." 

"You guys are adorable." Hannah beams at them through the slightly fuzzy picture. "And Chris was just getting in trouble because he didn't tell me you guys are dating." 

There's a split second of a glance where Chris can tell Darren's questioning, but Chris just pats Darren's knee - slightly awkward, but enough to indicate that yes, he is refraining from the truth. "And I told her that it's new." 

"So new that only the entire rest of the internet found out for me," Hannah sulks. "I mean, not that I didn't totally call this weeks ago. Wait, were you guys already - at Disney-" 

"No," Chris answers her quickly. "I told you, it's new. Like, very new." 

"... but Disney helped, right?" Hannah's grin is full of mischief. Chris has a feeling he knows where this is headed. "So I mean, basically, I hooked you two up. Pimp mama Hannah in the house!" 

"Hannah." Chris groans, turning his head slightly - right against Darren's shoulder. 

Darren laughs and kisses the top of Chris's head. Chris knows it's just for show but it still sends a small thrill down his spine. "You're gonna have to teach me how to embarrass him and have him not hate me." 

"I will totally do that," Hannah promises. 

"No," Chris says, trying to squirm away from Darren. Darren locks his arms around Chris and doesn't let him. He settles after a moment, but Darren is still firmly attached to his side. 

"So," Hannah says. "I have a ton of people asking me about you guys on twitter. Am I allowed to say anything?" 

Chris looks at Darren, who just shrugs. "Up to you, man. You want to like, talk to..." Darren trails off. 

Chris gets why. It's weird to have a casual conversation and need to stop to consult your publicist halfway through. 

"Well, what if I don't say anything," Hannah suggests. "But... you let me change my header image to one of the pictures of us from Disney?" 

She'd asked Chris before and he'd gently said no. 

Darren leans in and whispers, too low for the computer's microphone to catch, "Um, that's actually a pretty great idea." 

Chris nods slowly, in response to Darren but Hannah misinterprets it. "So I can? Awesome!" 

Hannah stops being focused on them and Chris can tell she's picking out a photo right now. Darren has a decidedly guilty look on his face, but Chris just gives a minute shake of his head. 

Alla probably would have thought it was a great idea for Hannah to post the picture _and_ answer tweets. 

"You know this is just going to make even more people send you messages," Chris warns her, a last ditch effort... not really expecting to dissuade her, just to make himself feel like he gave it an attempt. 

"I love talking to your fans," Hannah says, still distracted. She makes a triumphant noise as she finds just the right picture. 

"You love fighting with my fans," Chris says. He's had to talk to her a couple of times about rushing to his defense. He knows she's doing it out of love but he hates seeing her in the middle of that. 

"Only the stupid ones," Hannah says. "Go look at my twitter!" 

"I will later," Chris says. 

He won't. Darren, of course, is already pulling it up on his phone. "Oh, I love that one! I've got a couple good ones, too." 

"Text them to me!" Hannah demands. 

"What's your number?" Darren asks. 

"Oh no." Chris covers his face again. "No, no." 

"Get used to it," Hannah says. 

"Yeah, Bubba." Darren echos. Chris looks at him, forgetting how close they are until an errant curl of Darren's hair brushes his own forehead. "Get used to it." 

*

"Well, fuck." Chris sighs and reads the blurb for the fifth time in a row. 

Darren's sitting beside him, both of their phones on speaker with their publicists. Darren had gotten the call first, though before Chris could even ask why he seemed so dumbfounded Chris's had begun to ring. 

"Seriously," Darren says, slightly under his breath. 

The publicists are talking loudly at each other. It would almost be hilarious if it weren't so frustrating: they're just shouting loudly through phones, each on speaker. It would be much easier to disconnect and do one conference call but they haven't slowed down and given anyone a chance to even suggest that. 

Alla's voice rings out victorious after a slew of what Chris has heard enough to recognize as Russian profanity. "First what we need to do is find out who leaked this. Second we need to come up with a move to counter it." 

"Agreed," Michael says. "And I think we should-" 

Then they're off again, talking over each other, until Chris finally can't take the noise and the hectic tones. He stands abruptly and walks into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. 

He can hear the muffled sound of Darren's voice raising and then after a few more seconds, silence. 

Chris is expecting the knock when it comes. "Yeah," he calls out, letting Darren know it's okay to enter. 

"I told them call each other and let us know what they come up with." Darren settles cross-legged at the end of Chris's bed. "And then we can tell them fuck that noise and let them know what _we_ want to do instead."

"Because that always works." Chris rolls his eyes. He's laying down on the bed, and doesn't feel very inclined to get up right now. 

"You seem kind of..." Darren starts, and then pauses to think his words through. "What's actually bugging you about this? Is it that some people might believe this and think we're lying? Because I get that, if it is, but it doesn't seem like that's really it." 

Chris actually hates that Darren can read people so well. He hates that Darren can read _him_ so well. "It's the other part," he admits. 

"What other part..." Darren's eyebrows jump up a little as it hits him. "You not getting along with anyone on set? Come on, you know that's bullshit."

"Is it?" Chris shrugs. "I mean, everyone sees me like that, apparently. You know what’s kind of pathetic? I didn’t want to tell my sister the truth about us, because even she gets that I am just the worst in the fucking world at making friends. It made her so happy that I actually had someone in my life. " 

Darren reaches out and grabs the nearest part of Chris to him, an ankle. "Okay, I think the Hannah thing is a whole different discussion, and we can come back to that. But about the stuff on set - no, they don't see you like that. Some gossip rag that tries to jerk itself off on the lives and problems of celebrities does not represent the opinions of everyone that actually knows and cares for you."

"And who exactly would that be?" Chris asks. 

"People on set. Cast. Crew. Yeah, okay, you're distant. I'm not gonna argue that. But if you think people don't like you because of it, that's stupid. At worst they're confused and curious, but most of them just... don't think about you in one extreme or the other. You're just Chris. Awesome and hilarious when you're around, but everyone knows you just don't like to go out as much." 

"And you're telling me no one thinks that it's just because I don't like them or I think I'm too good?" 

"No, I won't tell you no one thinks that, because I can't speak for everyone. But I can tell you I've never fucking heard a single person on the cast say anything actually bad about you." Darren's still holding Chris's ankle and he keeps touching it as he talks, gentle squeezes and little rubs his his thumb over the knobby bit of bone, even dragging against the hair on Chris's leg when he strokes up and back down. It's weird and comforting at the same time. "And you know they've really fucking loved having you around more this summer. No one is faking that. No one's just being polite. You know what bitches we can all be, come on. No one would _bother_ to fake it. Okay? 

And somehow it's actually just the right thing to say, just the right amount of truth. The idea that no one thinks of him at all sometimes is painful in a different way but still has a grounding effect on the paranoia rampant in his mind right now. 

"Okay," Chris says. 

*

They find out a day later through email tracing that an intern in Michael's office leaked the information. The intern is fired. The gossip site is paid off a substantial enough amount to ensure there won't be any follow up posts. 

And Chris, to everyone's surprise, agrees readily with the suggestion that to counter the damage already done they simply... appear more publicly. He agrees to it with a few terms of his own that he isn't shy about letting them know are non-negotiable. 

When Darren's publicist suggests they set up photographers somewhere, Chris is ready with his first stipulation. "No professional photographers." 

Everyone on the conference call starts to argue him, except Darren - who is on the call from his trailer on set, while Chris had a later call time. 

"I want this done naturally," Chris explains. "I don't want people thinking I'm a liar, and you know everyone sees through paparazzi set ups when they just show up randomly in places like this. So we'll just do what we did in Vancouver, and go somewhere that people will recognize us and take photos." 

"A lunch won't work," Alla says. "It needs to be more." 

Darren speaks up next. "We'll go out then. The guys on set have been talking about a club night." 

"But it can't just be a group thing." This time it's Michael. 

Chris's foot taps nervous against the ground. He wants this call over. He wants this whole thing over, but it won't be - not for weeks still. So if he's in, he's going to be all in. "It'll be a group, but we'll put on a show. We'll make sure there's no mistaking what's going on."

He can hear Darren's chuckle. "Oh, we will?" 

"Yeah." Chris grins just a little. "We will." 

Michael starts his argument for photographers again, not wanting to leave it up to Chris and Darren. The call winds on until Darren needs to be back on set and by the time it ends they have an agreement: Chris and Darren have one week to come up with an effective response, or something will be arranged for them. 

*

They're all at dinner the next night when someone brings up going to a club that weekend. 

"You're in, right?" Jenna asks Darren. 

Darren shakes his head. "Nah, Chris and I were gonna go catch a movie, I think." 

"Actually." Chris looks around, making sure they're actually listening. "I think the club could be fun." 

"Seriously, Colfer?" Jenna is surprised. "You'd grace us with your presence?" 

This is the right moment. Chris knows it, and when Darren looks over at him he nods. "Yeah, really." 

"Well, it's settled then." Kevin claps his hands together. "Grovers gonna boogie." 

"Okay, one stipulation." Chris holds up a finger. Everyone goes quiet. "No one is allowed to refer to us as Grovers." 

Everyone laughs. Chris sits back, pleased with himself for pulling this off. 

*

Chris knew walking in he’d need a few drinks to make this happen, but there might be a small chance he’s overestimated the strength of the drinks in Albuquerque bars or his own alcohol tolerance. He’s not wasted, just a few steps past what he’s usually comfortable with. He can't even remember the last time he was in a club... or this drunk. His shirt is clinging to his sweaty body and he's lost track of everyone they arrived with, except Darren. 

He definitely knows where Darren is, because Darren's got an arm curled around him, keeping Chris tucked in close while he twists and dances the most ridiculously dorky and somehow still ridiculously hot moves Chris has ever seen. 

They’ve done nothing if not put on a show and Chris is positive the club photographers got them a couple of times, plus some fans had cameras trained on them for too long to be just still pictures. 

They really could probably stop right now, but… they don’t. The three shots Darren urged him into are definitely to blame. At the moment everything is just pleasantly numb, anxieties kept at bay. Normally when he's drunk, the feeling of not caring just bothers him. He always just ends up hyper aware of what he's doing and his lax filter, still afraid of what he might end up doing that'll cause him embarrassment later. 

Right now... something just feels different, and he's really not sure what. Maybe it’s breathing in different air, maybe it’s the music getting to him, maybe he's just too distracted by Darren's hand settled so comfortably right at the dip of his lower back. 

Suddenly, he does remember the last time he was this drunk in a club. He remembers dancing close and hot with a guy, a little bit like this. 

He went home with that guy. 

Technically, he's going home with this one too, but it'll be different. 

Right? 

The whole point of this was to be seen out together. There might be cameras here. Chris clings to the excuse like he clings to Darren, drunk enough that it doesn't even feel gross to wrap his arms around Darren's sweat-slick neck. 

The look Darren gives him is a slow-growing smile of surprise. "Hi there," he says, lips grazing Chris's cheek. "I love this song." 

"Never heard it before," Chris manages to say. Then words are too much, looking at Darren is too much. He closes his eyes and dances in closer. When they'd started there'd been space between them but now there's none, just two bodies with constantly shifting points of contact and a few that stay the same. 

By the time the lights flash multicolored overhead and the beat changes, Chris is thirsty, his head is throbbing, and he's half-hard. 

"Whew," Darren says, stepping back just a little. Chris has to pay careful attention to his mouth to see what Darren's saying over the new song. "I need to go chug some water." 

"Me, too." Chris swallows against a dry throat. "And another drink." 

Chris follows Darren to the bar but hangs back while Darren gets them each a bottle of water and drinks. "Come on," Darren says, twisting a hand back to snag Chris's. "VIP." 

They're both wearing the special wristbands that let them into the slightly more private nook upstairs. On their way, they pass Kevin walking down with a guy on one arm and a girl on the other. 

"Well, he's having a good night," Chris remarks. 

Darren laughs. "Doesn't he always?" 

There's a long semi-circular couch that they sit on. Chris doesn't even realize how much dancing he's done until he sits down and his legs rejoice. 

Darren sits by him, close by him. "So you having fun?" 

Chris leans his head against the back of the couch and lets it tilt slightly toward Darren. The room spins ever so slightly around them. "Yeah," he says, a soft breath of confirmation. "I am." 

"Good." There's a touch to Chris's cheek, the backs of Darren's knuckles brushing down his face. Chris swallows hard. This is starting to feel a lot like the last time he was at a club. "I want you to have fun." 

Chris licks his lips. "I am." 

The touch stops. Chris really, really doesn't want it to. He opens his eyes and finds Darren watching him with an unreadable expression. "You're drunk. So am I." 

"Yeah," Chris admits. "Is that..." 

"I just..." Darren shakes his head. "I want us to be... I'm not... I do a lot of stupid things when I'm drunk, okay? I don't want this to be one of them." 

Suddenly Chris feels very, very sober - sober, and humiliated. It must be written all over his face. Yeah, this is why he doesn't go out. This is why he hates this feeling of being too loose, too open, too vulnerable. "Oh." 

"We're getting back on track, aren't we?" Darren asks, pleading a little. "Friends, that's... that's important, too. I can take anyone out there home with me, but I won't care if they wake up tomorrow not wanting to talk to me." 

"Friends." Chris repeats it in a dull voice. Then, more quietly, "I want to go home." 

He tries to ignore how crushed Darren looks. 

* 

It's way too early in the morning for Chris to be awake. He's actually impressed he managed to sleep six hours straight without waking up. Normally he spends at least an hour or two a night tossing and turning. The alcohol was good for something, at least. 

Chris wakes up to a string of texts from Becca waiting on him. Since he'd still been a little drunk when he'd gotten home, he hadn't bothered to plug his phone in. 

He sighs and pulls up the message screen. 

Chris decides to take her advice and goes back to sleep. 

*

It's almost eleven when he wakes up again. He pulls a henley and pajama pants on, wrapping his arms around himself as he follows the scent of something delicious to find Darren standing in the kitchen. 

"What's this?" Chris asks. His voice is a little scratchy and he wishes he'd checked his hair, but it's not like Darren hasn't seen him with five am call time bedhead before. 

"Food." Darren's voice is teasing. "Or was last night's dinner so long ago that you've forgotten the concept?" 

"Oh, shut up." Chris rolls his eyes. 

He's pretty sure the food is a peace offering, a gesture to make up for the lackluster end of the night before. Chris will take it as one regardless, because the less he thinks about how he essentially got rejected without even having made a move, the better. 

And the food is delicious. Waffles on a waffle maker Chris hadn't even known was in the apartment, fresh fruit and butter and three kinds of syrup and chocolate chips. Each fat, fluffy waffle is cut into fourths so Chris can grab a piece of a few different kinds. It's enough to easily feed half a dozen people. "You expecting more company?" 

Darren shrugs sheepishly. "I just didn't know what you liked."

Chris stares down at the plate, warmth flowering in him. "You are so confusing, you know that?" 

"Moi?" Darren touches his chest in shock. "Whyever would you say that?" 

"I just don't have many friends that make me waffles at ten in the morning on a Sunday." 

"Sunday breakfast is the best, though," Darren says. "Everyone deserves a kickass Sunday breakfast. I wish I'd brought the stuff for drinks." 

"I think I had enough to drink last night." 

"Point." Darren agrees. "I think I'm done with clubs for a little while, anyway." 

"You can always go out," Chris says. "Seriously..." 

"Nah, I mean, it's not like I'd hook up anyway." Darren says it with enough certainty that Chris looks up. Darren shrugs at him. "I mean, we're dating now, right? Wouldn't exactly look good if someone got pictures of me taking someone else home." 

"Right." Chris tries to decide how awful it is that he's relieved he won't have to deal with that, even though Darren's saying he's only not sleeping around because of how it reflects on their fake relationship. "Well, thank you." 

"For what?" Darren asks. 

"The waffles." 

"Oh." 

"What did you think I was thanking you for?" 

"I don't know," Darren says in a voice that indicates he definitely does know, he just doesn't want to say. 

*

He's halfway through a stubborn chapter when his phone rings, his special Alla ringtone. 

She's scolding him before she even says hello. "You haven't checked your email." 

"No, I've been trying to write." When he's writing, Chris has to pretend the internet doesn't even exist or he'll finish the day with nothing but a folder full of cat pictures and sarcastic quotes on nonsensical photos. 

"Well, that's good, but email, button-nose. Check your email." Alla sounds too happy for it mean anything except that the club plan worked. 

"Don't call me that!" Chris regrets both childhood nicknames and the day Alla met his mother for the first time. "What's in my email that's so important?" 

"The photos from last night went up." Yeah. Definitely too happy. 

"Oh, god." Chris groans. He clicks on his email and finds a collection of links that she's gathered together and sent him. Seven tabloid gossip websites and running wild with images of Chris and Darren arriving - with a group, but standing close together - and a few of them on the dance floor. 

"There's another email," she prompts. 

The second one is all organic social media, people who were actually there and recognized them. "How!" Chris whines. "How are there people with fucking camera phones that recognize us literally everywhere we go? If we're that fucking recognizable why is the show even being canceled?"

"That's why this is a good thing," Alla says. "One more." 

The third one only has one photo. It's Chris and Darren dancing, but not from the early part of the night in the well lit area the others had been taken in. This one is so grainy and lightened with photoshop but it's Chris and Darren and... god, they're just all over each other. 

"Oh," Chris says. "Yeah, I was drunk." 

"This is exactly what we needed, and more than we expected. But I don't need to know the details." Alla interrupts him. "In fact, I don't want to. Just be discreet, don't let anyone film you in the bedroom, don't send naked photos through text or email. Anything else - have fun, sweetheart. You deserve some fun." 

"We're really not..." Chris sighs. There's no point. "Fine." 

"And I think we want you to be seen alone together some time this week. The group events are good, but Michael was right. We need to step it up and stay on top of it." Alla had backed him on the call before when he said no professional photographers, and he’s annoyed to realize that maybe she was just doing that out of client solidarity. 

"We'll see," Chris says. 

Once he hangs up the phone, he decides to go through and check the rest of his email. He has a couple from his publisher, one with some of the more recent book sale figures. 

He opens it because he's always been the kind of kid who preferred the band-aid ripped off in one fell swoop instead of slowly easing it off. 

The sales aren't great. His popularity as a writer has waned with that of the show itself. He's on his fifth book in five years and he was warned all along there would be some fall off, but no one was expecting this much or this regularly. 

He's supposed to have two more books to finish the series. He's beginning to wonder if they'll even let him have that much, or if there will be any offers after it. He just has so many ideas and he knows he's a good writer. 

But it takes more than being good to be a writer and actually make it. 

*

Between the sanctioned privacy invasion and the depressing book news, he ends up spending most of the evening sulking in his room. Darren leaves him alone until late evening, when he knocks on the door. "You alive in there?" 

"Questionable." Chris sighs. 

"Need anything?" Darren asks. 

"Nah," Chris says. He expects Darren to go away, but he doesn't. Eventually Chris sighs and says. "You can come in if you want." 

Darren's in the room in a heartbeat. "I was thinking, we should watch a movie." 

"Why?" Chris asks. 

"Because you seem down, and I don't like that." 

"I still don't get why." 

"Because." Darren reaches down and grabs his hand. "Friends, right?" 

Chris nods slowly. "I guess." 

"Then that's why." 

Outside it starts to rain, drops splattering angrily against his window. Chris hadn't even realized how overcast it really was, though in retrospect he realizes the sun has been absent of its usual intensity for a while. 

"What do you do?" Chris asks. "When you're just having a crappy day for no real reason?" 

"Well, there's usually a reason," Darren says. "It may not seem like a great one, or it may be totally dumb, but there's usually a reason." 

"Still," Chris says. "Assume there isn't. What do you do?" 

"I usually go out," Darren admits. "Just try and get away and distract myself some. Let other people do it for me. Or I make music." 

"Yeah?" Chris glances at Darren. "You still play music a lot?" 

"I do." Darren pulls his hand away from Chris and then wraps his arm around Chris's shoulder. "Once in a while I'll just call up a bar and see if they'll let me do a live set." 

"I kind of figured that was a publicity thing." 

"Nah, all me. I don't even usually tell anyone. Just let whoever is there tweet it out. Once I played a whole gig and no one even recognized me. That was pretty badass. I made like eighty bucks in tips." 

"I can actually imagine that." 

"Maybe I'll do it one weekend here. You could come with me. You've never really seen me play like that, have you?" 

"Not like that," Chris says. "But you used to play around the house." 

Darren grins. "I remember that." 

"I liked it," Chris admits. "You're really good. You have a good... voice." 

"Okay, hold on." Darren gets up and leaves the room. 

Chris barely has time to really get curious before he's back, guitar in hand. He sits crosslegged at the end of Chris's bed and starts to play. "This is an original and I wrote it like fifteen years ago, so don't judge me." 

"I'm judging you already," Chris says, but the sarcasm has no bite. The song is sweet, simplistic and hopeful. Darren sings it with a confident voice, skilled fingers on the guitar. 

When he finishes, he goes straight into another. Chris quietly shuts his laptop and puts it aside. It feels blasphemous to even consider looking at the computer when he's got this private concert happening. 

He turns onto his side and rests his head on his pillow, enjoying the warm way Darren smiles as he watches Chris get more comfortable. 

"I take requests," he says in the next break between songs, still strumming softly. 

"Just play what you feel like," Chris says. 

"How bout we take it back a little?" Darren hums a little like he's trying to remember the exact tune then launches into a song Chris remembers from high school. 

"Do you know any Barenaked Ladies?" Chris asks. 

"Yes, but I'm a gentleman, so I'll never tell." Darren jokes and then nods. "Seriously, though, yeah. What'd you have in mind?" 

"They had this song I used to like..." Without overthinking it, Chris opens his mouth and starts to sing. 

"Shit," Darren swears a little, startled. "Where have you been hiding that voice?" 

"I don't sing," Chris says. "I mean, usually." 

"Well, you should." Darren shakes his head, grinning at Chris like he's amazed. "Damn. I know the song, but you gotta join in." 

To both of their surprise, Chris does with argument. They cycle through a few favorites from that band, tossing song names back and forth. Outside the rain settles into a nasty storm, but Chris no longer feels like his mood is a match for it. 

"What about this one?" Darren takes it back to to Barenaked Ladies. Chris laughs when he realizes that song is named Celebrity. 

He's halfway through it when the power goes out. 

"Shit." Chris grabs his phone to turn the flashlight on, only to find his battery already down to a sliver of red. "And I forgot to plug it back in, of course." 

Darren fishes his own phone out of his pocket. "Do you know if we have any candles?" 

A search of the house reveals and emergency drawer with three squat long-burning emergency candles and a box of matches. 

"Okay, idea," Darren says, grabbing them and a plate to put them on. "We're gonna have a sleepover." 

"What?" 

"Blankets, Chris! Pillows! Come on! Snap to! And we should probably eat the ice cream in the freezer." 

"We don't even know how long the lights are going to be out for-" 

"Chris. Think of the ice cream. It's melting as we speak." Darren's expression is horrified. 

"Okay, okay!" Chris laughs and holds up his hands. "I'll go get the ice cream!" 

"No, wait, you have to help me make the tent fort first." 

"Tent fort... oh my god, what are you even planning." Chris watches as Darren comes back with what looks like all the spare bedding that he could find in his closet. 

"Go get yours," Darren orders. "We'll use that for the bedding." 

"You're not actually planning on us sleeping in here, are you?" 

"We have to conserve the candles!" 

"Those burn for a hundred hours. There are three of them." 

"We don't know how long the power will be out for!" 

"Three. Hundred. Hours." 

"... we need one in the bathroom too." 

"Or we could each just take one with us..." Chris trails off. Darren still has his phone's flashlight on so Chris can actually see that pinched, frustrated look back on Darren's face. 

Then he realizes what he's doing. He realizes what Darren's doing - trying to have fun. 

Darren's trying to have fun with him, and Chris is ruining it. His stomach drops unpleasantly. "You're right. And who knows, maybe it isn't even the storm. Maybe it's... maybe it's a zombie attack." 

Darren's smile is back. "Yeah?" 

"So we better go ahead and conserve the rest of the candles." Chris grabs Darren's phone from him and walks into his bedroom to grab his extra blankets. 

* 

Chris insists that a candle in a fort is a fire hazard waiting to happen so they compromise with a shelter that half covers them and and the three-wick emergency candle flickering happily on the table just behind them. 

Darren pulls his guitar out again and they sit side by side while he plays, backs to the bottom of the couch. 

Eventually Chris says, "Why don't you make music professionally?" 

Darren shrugs. "I don't know." 

"That's a shitty answer," Chris says bluntly. "You're good." 

"I feel like I kinda made that choice a while back." Darren plucks at the strings while he talks. "And I picked acting." 

"Who told you it had to be a choice?" 

"I don't want to be one of those actors who tries to fart out an album just because it's trendy and people will listen." 

"But it seems like it's your passion as much as acting. Maybe... more?" Chris asks. 

"I don't know about more. I fucking love acting. I guess I loved music first, though. Like the first song I ever remember learning..." Darren starts to play a Beatles number. Chris is struck by how loose and calm and centered Darren gets when he plays, so unlike the only slightly age-tempered ball of energy he normally is. "And I wouldn't even really know where to start. I got into helping produce some bands a while back but once I got this gig and relocated to Vancouver I kind of lost the thread there." 

"You have to know some people still, though," Chris insists. "Now is when you should be trying. There's a reason I didn't want until Shadow Grove was over to write, you know. I got the name established, and I didn't - fart out the books." 

Darren chuckles a little at Chris stealing his phrasing. "Yeah but you're like a real writer." 

"And you're 'like' a real musician. You /are/ a real musician. That's what you are. You need to call up those friends you still have. There's no way a label wouldn't be interested in you." 

"Yeah, I guess that's another thing. I don't know if I want to be with some big label that will suck my soul out." 

"Well, there's an easy solution to that," Chris says. "Start your own label." 

"Yeah, it can't be that easy-" 

Chris interrupts him. "Of course it won't be. That doesn't mean it isn't worth doing. Hire a lawyer. Get a business plan together. Research it, or hire a professional to guide you. You're already a name. There's built in press. Half your battle is already won. If you start talking, someone will listen." When he sees the intrigued look Darren is giving him, he sweetens the pot. "Plus, you could build it - sign some of those local Vancouver bands you're always giving shout outs." 

"That would be pretty epic," Darren admits. He nudges his elbow against Chris's. "Hey, you're not a half bad motivational speaker." 

"I just don't like watching wasted potential." 

Darren goes quiet, smiling down at his guitar. "You think I'm that good?" He asks, like he doesn't quite trust it. 

Chris snorts. "You know you're that good." 

"I know I'm good," Darren says. "I asked if you really think I'm that good." 

"Oh." Chris can't help but wonder why his opinion would matter that much, but he still answers with a firm, "Yes." 

Darren kisses Chris. It's probably aimed at the cheek, but it catches just the corner of his mouth. He pulls back, surprise obvious, and laughs nervously. "Sorry." 

Chris shrugs. "Not like we haven't done it before." 

"Yeah..." Darren licks his lips. Chris is trying so desperately not to let this get to him. "Okay. Okay! Give me more requests." 

Grateful for the built in distraction, Chris starts to name more songs. 

* 

The power isn't back on by the time Chris starts to feel sleep tugging at him. The floor isn't the most comfortable ever but he stretches out on the pad of blankets underneath him. He stays on his side facing Darren, who isn't even singing anymore, just playing melodies to songs Chris is fairly certain he's just making up as he goes along. 

Finally Chris says, "Stop. Come to bed." 

The words hang in the air between them, acknowledged only in actions as Darren lays his guitar on the couch and then leans over to blow the candle out. 

The apartment immediately falls to complete darkness. It's still raining outside but the thunder and lightning have calmed away. 

"I haven't played that much in a while," Darren admits. "My voice is half gone." 

"You shouldn't have," Chris says. "But I enjoyed it." 

"Yeah?" There's something in how hopeful Darren sounds that burrows deep down in Chris, making him move closer to Darren until he's fairly certain there's almost no space between them on the floor. 

He leans in more, more, just a tiny bit more, and - there. His forehead bumps Darren's and when Darren laughs the faintest laugh Chris can feel it against him. "I haven't spent that much time with any one person in a while." Chris pauses. "But I enjoyed it." 

Darren's arm settles hesitantly over Chris's hip. "Good. Me, too." 

Not long after that, Darren falls asleep. It's more elusive for Chris, despite how tired he is, but eventually he manages to shut his eyes and shut off his brain long enough to join.


	5. Chapter 5

*

Filming gets exhausting fast. The days are brutally hot and most of the scenes are location, which involves traveling up to an hour or two a day and then spending most of it sitting around with precious little air conditioned respite and makeup caked on to try and make them all look flawless despite actually being baked 

Sixteen hours is a good day including the rides back and forth. Chris ends each day desperate for a shower and sleep and so does Darren, though being Darren he still finds time to go out to dinner at least a couple of times. 

Thing are good between them, though Chris can’t shake the uneasiness every time he realizes exactly how good it really seems to be. It’s almost like he doesn’t trust it, or doesn’t want to let himself. 

"Exposure therapy works," Becca says, when Chris confides in her how much better things have gotten with Darren. "That or maybe you wedged the stick out of your ass."

"I think having something wedged in my ass would actually make me feel better, not worse," Chris points out. 

"If that's the case, I'll buy you the prettiest dildo I can find." 

"Functionality over aesthetic, please." 

"A boy that knows what he wants." Becca approves. "Speaking of... do I get an I told you so?" 

"I'm still not really sure he was just sitting around waiting for me to offer the hand of friendship all these years." Chris really won't let himself think that, at least. "And this may just be one of those weird temporary... things." 

"You are such a fucking pessimist!" Becca scowls at him. "Lighten up. Enjoy it, okay? So what if it is a temporary thing, even? Does that mean you can't just have fun with him for the summer? Are you only allowed to ever enter into friendships that come with a guarantee that they'll last a long time? Because life just doesn't work like that." 

"Maybe your life doesn't," Chris snaps back. "But yeah, I actually am a little pickier. I have limited time and limited energy to deal with people, so I want to make sure the ones I do pick aren't going to just ditch me." 

"You don't give people enough credit," Becca says.

"And you give them too much. How's that last boyfriend of yours doing?" Chris knows as soon as it's out of his mouth that it's one of those 'over the line' mishaps. Her last boyfriend dumped her - after admitting he’d been cheating on her off and on for at least half of their year long relationship.

Becca flips him off and spits out a quiet, venomous, "Fuck you, Colfer," before walking away. 

He slumps into his seat. He's right, he thinks; she does give people too much credit. She certainly gives _him_ too much. But Chris knows she took her last boyfriend's departure hard and he actually is an asshole to shove it in her face. 

Darren comes to find him a few minutes later. "What did you do to Becca?" 

"I'm a jerk," Chris says. "I'll make it up to her later." 

"Yeah, uh, just tread carefully. You know, it really sucks for the rest of us when you two are on the outs. Can I sit?" 

Chris would prefer to be alone but he nods anyway. "Why? It's no one's business." 

"Yeah but when you guys are fighting, everyone has to walk on eggshells around her or get their heads bitten off, and you just refuse to come out of your trailer. She's normally the one that gets you to come hang out with us. And we like that, you know. It's cooler when you're around." Darren has this look on his face, the same one he gets every time he casually mentions how people actually like Chris. 

"Oh, please." Chris shrugs that off. It’s not as awkward as it could be, but Chris still sort of regrets being so honest about how he felt over being called out for not associating with the cast. "No one out there even notices when I'm around." 

"Not fucking true," Darren argues. "I notice." 

Chris stares down at his laptop screen. He hasn't actually written a word since Becca left. "I'll make it up to her," he says. "Today." 

"Good." Darren kicks his feet up into the empty chair by Chris. He's sure whoever goes to sit in that later will really appreciate the dusty boot prints. "So, apparently we're hosting a pool party tonight." 

"What?" Chris jerks his head over to look at Darren. 

"Yeah, it was decided that since we got the sweet apartment with a pool that everyone's just gonna head home, shower, grab some towels, and crash it." 

"I'm pretty sure there's some kind of limit on how many guests we can actually have." 

"I'm pretty sure they won't care if we name drop it on twitter or something." Darren waves his hand. Of course the details like that are inconsequential. "Come on, doesn't it sound awesome? They're shuttling us back home once Kev and Jenna are done with this last scene." 

Another downside of filming so far out of town: everyone wasn't needed for the last reaction shots, but since they transport the cast together in a couple of rental vans they all have to wait. 

"I guess it would." Chris groans and shuts his laptop. "I wasn't going to get any work done anyway. Not in the right headspace for it." 

"The only thing you need to be in the headspace for is a killer cannonball." Darren mimes a huge splash, complete with sound effects. 

Chris finds himself very, very glad that his name isn't on any kind of apartment paperwork. 

* 

The pool party really is a good idea. 

It's early enough that the sun is still beating down on them but the water is crisp and clear and the pool large enough to accommodate a few dozen people. All of them aren't cast, but the residents who heard the commotion are happy to join in. Chris isn't so sure if they'll be that thrilled if it goes late, but hopefully it won't. Chris remembers how those house parties used to go. Even if it does last into the night, he has no intention of being involved. 

A few of the camera guys show up with two huge coolers full of ice and a few cases of beer. Someone else orders two dozen pizzas and enough breadsticks to feed a small army. 

Chris even manages to pull Becca aside for an apology. She sighs and hugs him, whispering, "You're lucky I get what an emotional fuck up you are," into his ear before slapping his ass and then pushing him into the pool. 

He doesn't miss how Darren seeks her out specifically for a high five, then catapults himself into the pool right by where Chris landed. 

Chris is treading water when Darren surfaces, sputtering. His hair is dripping and matted to his head and there are droplets clinging to his heavy stubble. 

“You are ridiculous,” Chris informs him. 

Darren grins and splashes Chris, who yelps and tries to swim away. 

“Oh, you don’t want to do that…” Darren warns him, voice singing out. 

Chris turns, still pushing himself backwards but more slowly. “Why don’t?” 

“Because.” Darren kicks forward, right at Chris. “That just makes me want to chase you.” 

“Oooh, aquatic foreplay,” Jenna smirks. She’s floating on a pool chair she showed up, apparently content to enjoy the show. 

Chris is about to respond when he realizes Darren actually is chasing him and that in order to avoid a dunking in his near future, he should probably swim. 

*

It takes about an hour for Darren to bring his guitar downstairs and the impromptu karaoke to start. 

Becca and Darren decided to go head to head duet-style. Darren unlocks and tosses Chris his phone. “Record us!” 

“What?” Becca glares. “Is this future blackmail?” 

“No, I just want to brag to my friends I sang on stage with Bec Bec.” 

“Fuck off.” Becca laughs and shoves Darren. She’s drunk and stumbles a little herself, but he catches her smoothly and then dips her with a flourish. 

Everyone laughs, except Chris - who doesn’t want to admit that he’s maybe a little jealous. He’s gotten used to having so much of Darren’s attention while living with him. 

Darren grabs his guitar and Chris realizes when he starts to hit record that they’ve taken too long and the phone has locked again. “I need your PIN number.” 

Darren winks. “Your birthday, babe.” 

There are a couple of whistles and confused laughs. 

“You are not serious.” 

“No.” Darren laughs. “I’m not, sorry. It’s 2416.” 

“You wouldn’t even know my birthday,” Chris grumbles. 

“Hey!” Darren protests. “I do, too.” 

“Then when is it?” Chris challenges him. They’re rarely still filming that late into the year, so he doesn’t expect Darren to know it. 

“May 27.” Darren smirks. 

“That’s right!” Becca confirms for their little audience. 

“How!” Chris huffs. 

“Hey, I pay attention! I remember things! I’m a good boyfriend,” Darren brags. Then he pauses, and like he’s trying to cover a slip up quickly adds, “On screen boyfriend, I mean.” 

“Right, right.” Chris plays it off. “I’m sure you cheated. Somehow.” 

“Hey, Darren.” Becca points her mic at him. “Do you know my birthday?” 

“... August…. 21?” It’s clear he’s completely guessing. 

“January 18, dipshit.” She doesn’t seem too upset, though. She’s actually grinning at Chris. “I guess we’re just not all that special.” 

“Please. Like _anyone_ is.” Chris holds the phone up. “Now, are you going to sing or are we just chatting all night?” 

She takes center stage as Darren starts to play. 

*

“Boy, are you actually crashing?” Chris hears Samantha ask. She’s one of their more frequent guest stars and she’s around for the movie. 

For a second, Chris thinks she’s actually talking to him, which surprises him since he’s only shared a handful of scenes with her and barely knows her. Then he realizes that Darren is nodding off beside him and it makes more sense. 

It also makes sense that Darren is falling asleep, since he’s gotten less sleep than just about anyone else there. “You should go get more comfortable,” Chris says, voice low. 

“Mm. I should,” Darren agrees, voice murky and tired. 

Instead of getting up and maybe even going to bed like Chis expected, Darren just flops down sideways with his head in Chris’s lap.They’re in one of the nicer lounge areas, a massive wicker basket chair with a soft mattress pad wide enough for three people and long enough to stretch out on, with half a dozen plush throw pillows. 

It's essentially a poolside bed, though Chris is sitting up. Darren’s the one laying down, horizontal with his head in Chris’s lap even though there are all the pillows. 

“Awwww,” Samantha coos at them. Out of the corner of his eye Chris can see Becca lean over and whisper something to Samantha , who is a little less subtle when she responds. “Oh my god, finally.” 

Darren falls asleep like that, head in Chris’s lap. Chris takes a moment to just openly stare. He can see the creases around the corners of Darren’s eyes, the laugh lines on his cheeks that he doesn’t remember being quite so prominent when they started this whole thing. 

He actually looks older like this, Chris realizes. It’s his energy and that untamable sense of youth that make him seem younger. 

But he’s not. Neither of them are exactly spring chickens in show business terms. He’s sure if they do renew the show, there will be a push to bring in some younger faces, to try and snare a new demographic. 

Some of that has to do with his recent thoughts on leaving. But right now surrounded by people that, perhaps under the influence of alcohol or perhaps just in rare moment of letting himself relax, he suddenly feels so fond of - right now it’s harder to imagine not sticking this out for the long haul. 

He drops his hand down to Darren’s head and starts to stroke through his hair absently. His own head hits the back of the padded lounge chair he’s in and his eyes close, heavy and warm, not sleeping but listening to the conversations going on around him. 

Chris’s fingers still at a certain point and he realizes Darren is still awake by the way Darren nudges his head back, whining. “Don’t stop. Feels good.” 

“Brat.” Chris grins down into Darren’s sleepy face but keeps scratching his head gently. Their eyes lock, smiles still on both of their faces, and Chris’s heart starts to pound a little. It’s a gentled down version of the swooping nerves he’s used to, and he’ll definitely blame this on the alcohol, the way he lets his fingers trail over Darren’s beard. 

Darren wiggles contentedly. “You’re good at that.” 

“This is going to give some people the wrong idea,” Chris says under his breath, only loud enough for Darren to hear. 

Darren’s mouth quirks in a half-grin. “I mean, we’re supposed to be selling it, right?” 

“To these people, though?” 

“We’re actors, we commit.” Darren takes Chris’s hand starts to play with his fingers, then raises them to his mouth and kisses Chris’s fingertips. 

“Right…” Chris tells himself he can’t get up now, that it would just confuse everyone. 

So that’s why he stays right there, Darren warm and comfortable in his lap, one hand in Darren’s and the other playing with his hair. 

Eventually people start to splinter into little groups, a few leaving. Chris can smell the acrid scent of pot and he's not typically one to partake but he breathes it in deep. 

In his half-sleep, Darren smiles. 

Chris strokes a faintly damp curl back from his forehead. "We should go to bed."

"'s nice out here," Darren mumbles. 

"But you're asleep anyway." Chris tugs at the curl, then trails his fingertips along Darren's eyebrows. He's not sure why the sudden fascination with touch. Maybe it's just because it's been so long since he's done this with anyone. It's not sexual, really, just a needy little thirst inside of him being fulfilled with every tiny inch of skin he's allowed to stroke. 

And there’s a lot of skin on display, right now. They’re both in board shorts, neither wearing shirts. He can feel Darren’s hair tickling at the bare skin of his stomach when Darren tilts his head back. 

"I'll wake up if I get up." Darren's argument makes little sense. "You should lay down with me instead." 

"I'm not sure how that's even a better option." Chris sighs but he slumps down. He finds a pillow to shove under his head. "I'm just going to want to go to sleep now. 

Darren secures an arm around Chris's waist. "So go to sleep. We'll nap together." 

Chris is far too hyper aware of everything around him to actually asleep, but he does manage to successfully pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist for long enough to enjoy being thoroughly pinned down and cuddled by a warm, nice-smelling man. 

Becca checks in on them once, giving him a smile that's happy but tinged with something a little distraught. She looks like she's going to say something but Chris waves her away. He's enjoying this and he wants to see if he can keep himself in the moment for just a little while more. 

* 

Eventually, people move. Darren gets up, yawning and then smiling brightly and jumping back into his role of pseudo-host to hug people goodbye. Chris can’t shake the fog of half asleep as easily, lingering behind then slipping inside without saying goodbye to anyone.

He tries waiting up but almost forty minutes past and he decides Darren must have lost track of time or, fuck, maybe someone made him an offer he didn't want to pass up. That thought makes him yank angrily at the blankets on his bed. He tries to sleep, to really sleep this time, but can't. 

Then he hears the door slam in the front room of the apartment. He sits up like maybe he's actually going to go say something to Darren, then realizes how strange that would be and lays back down. 

Darren knocks on his door. "You still up?" 

"Yeah." Chris decides playing like he's asleep isn't worth it. He turns onto his side so he can see Darren when Darren opens the door. 

"Sorry. I got caught up talking to... well, it's not important." He doesn't step inside the room. 

"I noticed." 

Does Chris actually want him to come in? He isn't sure how much of this is really him and how much is the lingering buzz. 

Darren does step in now. "You okay?" 

"Yeah..." Chris looks at the silhouette, all he can really see with the darkness in the room and the light source so far away from Darren. "I'm fine. Tired." 

"Okay." Darren shuffles into the room a little more. Then he's right beside the bed, leaning down. "Sleep well." 

He bends and kisses Chris on the forehead. 

"Sorry." He laughs a little when he straightens up. "That was weird, wasn't it?" 

"You're always weird," Chris says, but smiling now. It soothes that thing inside of him that had been bristling for reasons he doesn’t really want to recognize just yet. "You sleep well, too." 

* 

"You know, this is actually gonna be good," Darren comments. 

They're in Chris's trailer, which is where Darren can usually be found now on his off time, flipping through the latest round of script changes that they have about ten minutes to completely memorize. 

"I think you're right," Chris admits. 

The quality of the writing has never really been an issue on this show. It is exactly what it means to be, sometimes a little cheesy and over the top, but engaging and the writers take a lot of care with continuity. They've got a good cast, some drama but not as much as other shows, and guest stars that are both popular with viewers and the crew. 

Scifi just isn't the genre that people are pounding down doors for. Still, they're giving fans something that will satisfy them in the worst case scenario, and that's more than a lot of shows get the chance to do. 

The movie will be close to four hours filmed and edited into a two-part event. The plot is not so complicated: they are a clandestine group that works to fight the alien takeover of the government, and their secret contact database is infiltrated.This means that all their informants, all those guest stars that cycle in and out of the show's run, are being targeted… and provides an excuse to bring a plethora of guest stars that rarely appear onscreen together all in to be highlighted for a moment. 

Chris's character Aiden, who started out as an FBI lawyer in those early episodes of season one but gradually defected to become one of the lead members of the group, is in the most danger of any of the core characters. The previous season finale had ended on a cliffhanger note, a group of suit clad officials viewing a powerpoint presentation all about him - proving that they knew who he was and were after him. 

The rest of the Shadow Society (as they call themselves) members are all a mystery to the government; Darren's character Bayani, the tech genius who runs everything out of their basement bunker; Amber's military trained weapons expert Zola; Jenna's orphan with a mysterious and potentially extra-terrestrial past, Jane; Kevin's character Ivan, a biochemist whose mother was killed by the government for the knowledge she had, setting him on a path of vengeance; Becca's snarky Sam, master strategist who was raised in the First Rebellion, the original uprising whose members (including Ivan's mother) were exterminated. 

The Shadow Society will spend hours of screen time trying to evade being tracked and hunted while trying to protect their friends and destroy the government base that exists - where else - in Roswell. 

For Chris and Darren, specifically, this means a whole lot of running around and pretending to shoot stuff, and their characters getting closer than ever. Bayani spends most of it terrified that Aiden is going to die and fighting the way Aiden pulls away from him until it all culminates in a juicy tension packed sex scene. They haven't gotten to that on the shooting schedule yet, but Chris knows they’ll have to sooner or later. 

The project has two filming units going simultaneously to try and maximize productivity for the expensive location shoot. Today Kevin, Jenna, and Amber are two hours away filming a showdown with Beata, the sleek powerful agent in charge of the military operation against them... who also conveniently happens to know enough about Jenna's past to try and lure her to the dark side. Or into bed. Or both. 

(Chris has already read the full script. He knows the end will reveal just enough to say they answered a question, but will bring about half a dozen more mysteries to be unveiled hopefully in a following season. Also, there is totally sex. Lots of sex.)

"So basically, we bicker a lot today," Darren summarizes, tossing his script onto the couch. "I think we got that covered." 

"We've been doing pretty good, haven't we?" Chris asks. 

_Haven’t I?_ is what he wants to say, but doesn't. 

Darren gives him a reassuring smile. "I think so. I mean we're almost a month in and we haven't killed each other." 

"Wow, a month." Chris can't actually believe it's been that long. "Doesn't feel like it?" 

"Right?" Darren agrees. "I thought maybe it was just me. You know, we should celebrate this whole making it a month." 

"Oh?" Chris puts his own script aside. They'll be called to set any minute now anyway. "What did you have in mind?" 

"Dinner?" Darren suggests. "This weekend?" 

"Oh, another fake date?" They've done it a couple times, though there genuinely haven't been many nights that they weren't filming or exhausted. 

"Nah... we're shooting in Las Cruces this weekend and I figured since they're putting us up on Saturday night... maybe we can just find somewhere around there. I was talking to one of the PA's. They're trying to be lowkey about it so we don't have to deal with a lot of giggling fans while we're filming that heavy scene." 

"What is it, Grant's death?" Chris hasn't looked that far ahead. 

"Us reacting to it." Darren makes a face. "Shit's not even hard to act out. It's gonna really suck not having him around." 

"This is scifi, he'll be back. That's like the rule." 

"Yeah." Darren laughs. "I guess it is. But, dinner?" 

"Sure," Chris says. "Not like I'm gonna have anything else to do." 

"Oh yeah, that's what I live for. Being the only available option." Darren rubs his hands together. 

"Oh, shut up." Chris rolls his eyes. "You're reminding me why I-" 

He stops, realizing that maybe he doesn't want to finish that sentence. He was going to say 'why I stopped liking you' and that's - that's just too far over the line. 

Two months ago, he might have wanted to lash out. But somewhere along the way that's changed. He's still not sure if it'll last and he's still not sure if this means they're friends or his ability to adapt to a situation is just better than he thought. But for whatever it means, right now... he cares. 

Darren lifts an eyebrow. "Why you what?" 

Chris shakes his head. "Nothing." 

Darren nods knowingly. "Gotcha. Well, I'll do my best not to remind you why you 'nothing.'" 

"Dinner," Chris says. "Saturday night?" 

Darren's smile is a little dimmer but it doesn't take much coaxing back. "Yeah. It's a date." 

* 

*

As soon as he goes down, Chris can tell something is wrong in the way his knee just popped. His cry of pain is entirely real but he has enough presence of mine to spit out the line of dialogue Aiden has. 

Darren comes rushing to him, Bay's words coming out of his mouth. He doesn't realize anything's actually wrong either, but Chris is grateful to have the excuse to lean on him as they rush to 'cover' - which is actually just a fake shack entrance set piece. 

Darren lets him go as soon as the shot is called. Chris can put enough weight on his leg that he doesn't fall over, but it worries him for a second. He manages to shuffle over to a chair and sits. 

"Did we get it?" He asks. He doesn't want to make a fuss when injuries happen on set every day but he's also fairly certain he doesn't have it in him to go down that hard again. The pain and the clammy, shaky feeling of an adrenaline crash makes him also desperately want out of Aiden's fake-blood stained clothes. In the script, he's just been grazed by a bullet. 

It works in his favor that the practical effects also require a lot and no one wants to go through that kind of setup more than they absolutely have to. This was the third time, and Chris has never felt more relief than when the unit director says, "Yeah, I think we got it on that one." 

People start to break the around him, eager to get done and get out at a decent time. 

Chris doesn't move. 

He tells himself he will in just a minute. Just... a few more seconds. 

He flexes his knee and there's an immediate stab of pain so strong it almost makes his eyes water. 

Maybe more than a few seconds. Maybe if he just doesn't move no one will notice. 

"Chris, you want-" Darren stops, eyes narrowing at him. "You okay, man? I thought you'd want to get out of that, grab a shower." 

"Yeah." Chris realizes his voice is rough and clears his throat. "I am. In just a second. I was just..." 

He can't even say he was texting or replying to email, since his phone is in his bag in his trailer. Fuck. 

"You okay?" 

"I'm fine." Chris realizes as soon as he says it that he's snapping, but all of his energy is focused on pushing himself up into a standing position. His knee can still hold him but he has to grit his teeth. 

He takes a step, and then another, and another. He forces himself to walk at a normal pace and tries not to limp. He can feel sweat at his temples and the back of his neck, disgusting with how much dust and dirt and red sticky syrup he's covered in. He feels like collapsing by the time he's staring down the little step that leads into his trailer. 

"Chris," Darren says quietly. 

Chris jumps, not having even realized Darren was following him. His knee buckles immediately, like it was just waiting to fail him, and if not for Darren grabbing him Chris would have gone right down. 

"Fuck." Chris breathes out against Darren's shoulder, clinging to him in a way that's embarrassing to him. "I did something to my knee back there." 

"Yeah, I got that." Darren's hand rubs circles over his back. "Let me help you in and then go get a set medic." 

"I don't..." The words die, drowned out by more pain. 

"Come on, you gotta get this shit taken care of." Darren gets the door open and bears most of Chris's weight helping him up. 

"I'm fine," Chris says, though he practically whines in relief as he sinks onto the couch in his trailer. "I'll be fine, at least." 

"Sure you will. After someone looks at that. I'll be right back. You stay right there, mister." Darren points at him. 

"Damn, and I was about to go run a marathon." Chris waves his hand dismissively. "Fine, go ahead." 

Darren's gone for ten minutes and in that time the pain in Chris's knee dulls to a throb but definitely doesn't go away. 

When Darren comes back it's with a woman that Chris has never met before. "Hi," she says, sounding pleasant though Chris knows that some time in the immediate future her job will involve causing him some kind of pain. The hefty first aid bag she's carrying with her is already mocking him. "I'm Sarah." 

Sarah actually is very pleasant but that doesn't make it any better when she announces that he's torn a ligament. She gives him four over the counter painkillers and wraps it for him, then tells him he needs to get to an actual doctor to get it looked at more closely and get a prescription for something stronger.

He can practically taste the peace that Vicodin will bring him right now, so he doesn't argue any of that. "Drive me?" He asks Darren. Luckily for him, they're both wrapped for the day and Darren had a later call that morning so he'd driven himself in his rental. 

"Of course." Darren squeezes his arm. "I'll go pull the car as close as I can get it. You want to talk to anyone first?" 

Chris shakes his head. "I'll wait and see what an actual doctor says first." 

"Good plan." 

While Darren's gone, Chris gets directions from Sarah for the doctor they've been using on set. "Don't worry," she reassures him. "You're not the first cast member they've seen. I don't think you're even the first this week. Jake had to get stitches." 

"Ouch." Chris cringes. "Been there." 

She laughs and gives him a cheery, "Feel better!" before seeing herself out. 

Darren's back a couple minutes later, coming into the trailer to help Chris into the car. Once they're settled in he asks, "So what's this put you up to?" Darren asks. "Seven? Eight?" 

"I hate you." Chris slumps into his seat as gently as he can. "Eleven." 

Eleven medical emergencies of various degrees of severity in four years on a show with a higher than average number of stunts and an actor with lower than average hand-eye coordination is not that bad, Chris wants to argue. But Darren is the jerkface who has only actually been rushed off for medical care once - and that wasn't even an injury, it was an allergy attack that he had a particularly vicious reaction to. 

"The arm is still my favorite," Darren says. 

Chris immediately knows which one he's talking about. It was a party, one of the lighter scenes they've done, back in the middle of season one when everyone was still doing pretty well (both onscreen and off). One of the characters rented out a roller skating rink for someone's birthday and it was just supposed to be... fun, for both the characters and the actors. 

And it was fun. 

For everyone that actually knew how to skate. 

For Chris, it was painful and resulted in a broken wrist and an awkward filming schedule. He still gets embarrassed thinking about how they had to rearrange everything for him. "That was awful." But then he thinks about it. He remembers Darren bringing home his favorite ice cream and commiserating over old injuries. He remembers not hating it that much... until Darren got bored and went out, and Chris had to hear about the hot piece of ass he bagged later on. 

Chris doesn't say much else on the drive there. Darren seems confused but probably writes it off to Chris being in pain. 

The doctor sees him quickly and doesn't make a big production of it, which Chris appreciates. It's not a bad tear and he only needs to give it a couple days of being very careful and elevating it before he can walk. No stunts for at least a week, but luckily that hadn't been on the schedule anyway. 

He gets enough anti-inflammatories and Vicodin to carry him through the weekend. He wants to take one immediately but knows he needs to take care of work stuff first. 

The call to the studio on the drive back to their apartment is a bigger pain in the ass than the entire doctor's visit, and actually takes longer. They call back an hour later to say they've rearranged some units and he’ll have one full day off. After that they'll do close up reaction shots of Chris for a couple of days, and a few scenes where he's sitting and won't be required to move around. 

That’s enough for Chris to consider his responsibilities met and happily takes his painkiller. 

*

Darren turns out to be a pretty spectacular nursemaid. He forces Chris to hang out on the couch while Darren makes his bed, piling on half of Darren's own pillows to make sure Chris is comfortable and his leg is elevated. Then he gets Chris a bottle of water, a Diet Coke, and moves his phone and laptop chargers close enough to the bed that Chris won't have to reach far for either and the batteries won't go dead. 

Chris would protest such care if he weren't completely drugged up. He even lets Darren help brace him while Chris wiggles out of the pants he'd been wearing before - still the fake blood covered ones from set - and into much more comfortable pajamas. 

Once he's sure Chris is completely comfortable, Darren sits on the edge of the bed. "Okay, so your options are: a) I can fuck right off and leave you alone, if you're the kind of person who just really wants to sleep it off or not be around anyone when you don't feel good. Or b) we can put on a movie and I'll keep you company." 

"I thought you were going to a movie tonight." Chris knows because Darren invited him, but Chris had decided he'd rather stay in and write. 

"I'll skip it," Darren says. He reaches out and puts a hand on the ankle of Chris's good leg. 

And Chris likes that. He likes that Darren will blow off other friends for him. He can't help the way that just makes him want to preen a little. "Skip it, then." 

Darren doesn't look upset at all. He leaves the room to give Kevin a call and fill him in, but he doesn't try to keep his voice down. When he comes back he's changed into yoga pants and a worn t-shirt. "There's something about the British Regency on Netflix. You feeling it?" 

"I'm always feeling it." Chris lets Darren get it set up on the television set. 

When he's done, he curls up close to Chris on the bed. "This okay?" 

"Mm. Yes." Chris feels drowsy with how nice it is to just be held. "I don't do this a lot." 

"Bust up your knee? I hope not," Darren teases. 

"I mean... lay in bed with someone." Chris can't actually turn toward Darren because of his knee but he can rest his head on Darren's shoulder. Darren ends up half under him, one arm curled around him. 

"Me either, I guess. I mean... if you want some truth time, I haven't even slept with anyone since my ex." Darren doesn't sound regretful, just states it for the fact that it is. 

"I thought you were going to marry her," Chris says. The whole world is hazy and happy right now. 

"What? Really? It wasn't ever that serious." Darren looks at him strangely. "What even made you think of that?" 

"It seemed like it." Chris ignores Darren's question. "When you brought her around." 

“When did I even bring her around?” Darren asks. 

“Back in… the house.” Chris tries to think of how else to phrase it, but that’s how he differentiates between that first year and the rest in his head. The first year was _the house_. 

“Oh, shit, she did come visit me once, didn’t she? I totally forgot about that. Man, we weren’t even really anything back then, we were just kind of straddling that fuckbuddy line.” 

“Well.” Chris doesn’t like hearing that. “You talked about her a lot.” 

“It was good sex, and she was a cool girl. But it wasn’t anything more than that.” Darren shrugs. “So I guess looks can be deceiving? I mean, you seemed serious about that last dick you dated." 

"I was serious about the dick." Chris giggles. He'll deny it later, but he giggles. "Just not the rest of him." 

"Oh, dude, too much info." Darren makes a grossed out face. "Sorry, I didn't like him." 

"Well, I didn't like her." It feels nice to say, so he says it again. "I didn't like her." 

"Is that why you moved out?" Darren asks. 

"No," Chris says, but even his drugged up brain doesn't loosen his tongue enough to keep talking about that. "Wait, why didn't you like him?" 

"Do I need a reason? I just didn't. He didn't seem like someone who was good for you." 

"But I liked his dog." Chris sighs. "His dog, and his dick." 

"You could get a dog." 

"I think my cat would get mad." Chris sighs again. "I miss my cat." 

"You are... fucking adorable." Darren smiles at him and kisses his temple. They're still cuddling. The cuddling is nice. Chris is going to miss it when there's no excuse to cuddle anymore. Maybe he can bribe one of the writers to do a cuddle episode. Aiden contracts some kind of alien virus that causes him excruciating pain unless he's got skin to skin contact - and of course, Bayani volunteers. "What's so funny?" 

"Mm. Thinking of show ideas." Chris explains. “Where we have to cuddle.” 

Darren laughs. "You'd get some good traction in the online groups with that one, I bet." 

"Except on the internet it would be more naked." 

"Totally." Darren nods. "That's the rule of the internet. Take a good idea, add nudity." 

"But literary nudity. It's... better," Chris says. "I'm okay with the writing stuff. It's the pictures that get weird. That... someone is drawing my dick. They're imagining what my dick looks like. And drawing it. My dick. And they're strangers." 

"Okay, well, when you put it like that, it is kind of weird. But weird is good. Weird is cool." 

"Your face is weird." Chris is getting sleepy now, eyes heavy. He likes how Darren is still touching him all over, stroking him, free with his affection. "But good." 

"God damn, they gave you some good stuff," Darren marvels. “You’re fun tonight.” 

"What, am I not any fun normally?" Chris sulks. He knows it's just the medicine but he feels a surge of genuine angst over the idea of it. 

"Hey, didn't say that." Darren adjusts their snuggle position. His nose is pressing against Chris's temple and it's weird to feel the warm gusts of breath on his skin. "Your knee okay?" 

Chris nods. "Can't even feel it. Or my fingertips." 

"Definitely the good stuff. So, any other burning questions while you're so loopy you'll actually talk to me?" 

"Mm. I don't know." Chris sighs. "I just..." 

"You just what?" 

"I didn't like Mia. You didn't like my last boyfriend. Why?" 

"I didn't even know that dude, okay. You never brought him anywhere. I wouldn't have even known you were actually with him for that long if not for Becca." 

"Becca's a gossip." 

"Sure is. Comes in handy." 

"You slept with her, too, didn't you?" 

"Shit." Darren sucks in a breath. "Getting personal here." 

"It's okay. She told me." 

"Just once," Darren says. "I was dumb and horny. I mean, not that sleeping with her was dumb. I just mean... you know, we talked about this already." 

"You used to go out so much... and I always felt..." Chris is frustrated at how much he wants to say and reveal right now, hindered by how much he'll regret this if he doesn't stop. 

"Me going out made you feel bad." Darren sounds like he's puzzling over that one. "Left out, right?" 

"I guess. I..." Chris makes a frustrated noise. "Did you really sleep with all of them? Every time you'd just - leave with someone? All those girls on set?" 

"Whoa. Okay. Um. No? I mean, I don't know exactly what you mean by 'all of them' but - I'm still gonna go ahead and say no, I didn't. Not that, you know, there's anything wrong if I had." He's a touch defensive.

Chris doesn't really blame him. He knows how what he's saying is coming across, so he decides not to say anything else. He tries to shift away but Darren won't let him. "I'm tired," Chris says. 

Darren’s more tense than he was before, but when Chris tries to shift away Darren still won’t let him. "Then sleep. I’m not going anywhere." 

Chris still feels bad, but that makes him feel a little better. He takes Darren’s advice and sleeps. 

*

 

The apartment is quiet and empty when Chris wakes up the next morning. There's no note from Darren - not that he really expects one - but he looks to the right and sees a couple of protein bars, an apple, and two Diet Cokes still sweating condensation. His pills are all right there too and after testing his knee he decides to break one of the Vicodin in half and see if it dulls the discomfort but still leaves him clear-headed enough to get some writing done. 

He does have a book that the publisher expects at some point, after all. It's his second series, and it's not doing nearly as well as the first. They told him he should just keep writing Alex and Connor but he wanted to do something else. He wanted to prove he could write an adult series but still keep a loose grasp on the fairytale words that inspired him originally. 

In his mind, it was a terrifying nightmare realm where the winged monkeys had sharp teeth and the witches gnawed on the bones of little children and spooky things came out to play at night. It was brilliant in his mind, gory and deliciously suspenseful, and... the same thing a hundred other writers were doing.

His name is always up there on the list when people talk about the re-imagined fairytale genre, but he's the only one with a television show backing him. Even the critics that saw the charm in the Land of Stories books pan the Realm of Nightmares as nothing but a cheap attempt at cashing in on his previous success while simultaneously ripping off Stephen King. 

His books still sell better than a lot of people struggling to get published, but it doesn't escape his notice that on all those book tours half of them would rather him sign an eight by ten glossy of Aiden than his own actual book. They even had to make it a rule after those first few stops that people had to buy a book, they couldn’t just show up to get their Shadow Grove merch signed. 

Originally there was going to be a five book Nightmares series to match the five book Stories deal. The publishers want to cut it to three thanks to the flagging sales, but Alla's fighting hard to keep them from breaking the contract terms. He finds the last email she sent him about it, and then decides to give her a call. 

"Christopher," she says. "How's the leg?" 

Of course she knows. She'd been his only other call after the studio, though it had just been a message left through her assistant. 

"Knee," he says. "And it's okay. I just wanted to see how the book situation was going." 

"I can make them stick to the five book deal. The payout they're offering isn't even in the right hemisphere of what we'd really need, and they know it." Alla calls them a name in Russian. Chris still doesn't really know it means, but it amuses him. 

"I don't need the money," Chris mutters, because yeah - it's a hit to his pride. "I just want to write my books." 

"And that's why we're asking so much that they'd actually come out better just paying for the publication and promotion," Alla says. "My button-nose wants to write, and that's what he'll do." 

Chris laughs despite himself. "I hate you." 

"If I paid me what you pay me, I'd hate me, too." She laughs. "But it will be fine. You'll get your books." 

"But not any more after this," Chris says. "Right?" 

Her silence is telling. "You don't know that. Right now they're just looking at the numbers for this series, but you're a moneymaker. You just have to figure out what works for you again." 

"I'm not writing about ten year olds when I'm forty," Chris says. "And that's what they want, isn't it?" 

"They are dumb corporation men. They only know, only speak, only trust what they know has already made them money. It's our job to convince them that you're worth trying again. And if not for them, you know, you could always publish yourself." 

"I like the legitimacy of it being a known publisher." It shouldn't matter, Chris knows, but it does. "I want to succeed as a writer, not as someone rich enough to trick everyone into thinking he is one." 

"You write, you are a writer," Alla says. "They don't decide that." 

"You know what I mean."

"I do. I just think you're wrong. Your ego, babe, your ego." This is a discussion they've had before, in those quiet moments where she's more friend and parent figure than employee paid to represent him to the public at large and keep his ass out of the line of fire. 

"Yeah, yeah." He lets the topic drop. "Is there anything else you need from me?" 

"No." 

"Seriously?" 

"You have a personal assistant. I use her, even if you don't." 

"I just - wait, what is she handling that I don't know about?" 

"All things that make your life easier for not knowing about them. By the way, you'll need to autograph a few hundred more headshots when you get back to Vancouver. I'll email you the information, but we're donating to a fundraiser for epilepsy." Alla's always got a knack for picking things Chris would donate to himself. "And if you're just really desperate for something to do, there's always social media. You've been slacking." 

"I don't really want to face it right now. I know what'll be on there." Chris glances at his computer and actually pushes it a couple of inches away, like proximity to the tweets make any kind of difference. 

"Exactly what we wanted to be on there," Alla says. "And the studio is offering you and Darren both under the table bonuses." 

"What?" This is news to Chris. 

"It's working, honey. The audience is reacting exactly the way they thought it would. The box set sales are up. Advertisers are noticing. There are daily updates from people on set, leaked photos everywhere-" 

"Filming or... us?" Chris is creeped out by the idea of people actually following them. 

"Both," Alla says. "But only public places so far. We're keeping an eye on it. If it gets to the point of being dangerous, we'll get you some extra security." 

He doesn't really love walking around with bodyguards, but after being attacked and his car actually chased and rear-ended by an enthusiastic drunk fan in Barcelona, Chris doesn't resist it nearly as much. 

"Just tweet something," Alla says. "It doesn't matter what it is right now, they'll eat it up." 

Chris sighs. "Fine." 

"Do it now." 

"I said fine!" 

"Now!" She's laughing as he hangs up on her. 

He looks through his phone camera roll, but doesn't find any pictures on there he really feels comfortable sharing. His go-to back home is just his cat, but they all know he's not home right now. 

He finally decides on taking a new one. He's wearing shorts that go down far enough to not be too embarrassing and his knee is still wrapped. He snaps the picture and uploads it with a cheesy caption about safety first, even during alien attacks. 

He gets another twenty minutes of writing done after he posts it before morbid curiosity wins out and he goes to check his twitter account. He has hundreds of responses and it's with a completely earned sense of dread that he clicks his mentions tab. 

They're freaking out. 

Not just the normal level of freak out he gets when he posts a picture, but truly _freaking out_. His stomach drops as he figures out why. 

There's a shirt on the floor of the picture. 

The shirt is not his. 

It's one of Darren's college ones that he wears all the time. 

"Fuck," he curses out loud. 

He doesn't really want to have to admit it to Darren, but he doesn't want Darren to find out on his own. 

Chris stares at the emoji for longer than he should, then his eyes shift back over to Twitter. He actually reads some of the replies this time. A lot of them are general congratulations, a lot of them are professing to have known it the whole time (to which Chris rolls his eyes), some are... angry. Some are very angry. Some fans of Darren's ex are vehemently cursing his existence. Some people are still claiming that this doesn't have to mean anything, that everyone knows they're rooming together for the summer. 

Chris finds himself torn between wanting to defend the relationship he's not actually in and in wanting to knock the people who claim to have known they were in love for years down a few pegs. He can practically feel his blood pressure rising as he reads through. 

He decides to reply to a few on a whim, but only ones talking about his cat or his book. He tells one girl that his pet sitter sends him daily updates on her (which she does) and another that he's already halfway through writing the next Nightmares novel. 

The rest of the tweets he completely ignores. 

*

A three hour nap may not cure all that ails him, but the painkiller he pops when he wakes up definitely does a good job of taking care of what ails his knee. 

He heeds the advice of the kind doctor with the kind prescription pad and keeps it elevated and his weight off of it for most of the day, but he does hobble around for a few minutes just to test it without the crutches he'd come home with the day before. He finds that he can make it around with really not too much trouble, at least to the bathroom and the kitchen and back - and really, those are the two that matter. 

He manages a second nap under the calming lull of the Vicodin, not waking again until Darren's knocking on his door. “You asleep?” 

“No,” Chris mumbles, though he knows Darren can completely tell that yes he was totally asleep. 

"You're adorable." Darren actually climbs onto the bed beside Chris. He's fully clothed and stays on top of the covers, but Chris can't help but warm all over at how Darren so casually sprawls in his space. "You're also a motherfucker for leaving me with the rumor mill suddenly going ninety to nothing today." 

Chris groans and covers his face with a pillow. 

Laughing, Darren plucks the pillow off and tosses it aside where Chris can't reach it. "It's cool, it's cool." 

"No, it's humiliating." Chris covers his face with his hands since Darren took his pillow away. Darren gently grasps his wrists and tugs his hands away, too. 

"Honestly, Chris, I know you're pretending we're not doing this whole dating thing, but it was a good move in terms of... selling it." 

"We're _not_ doing this whole dating thing." Chris just closes his eyes, left with nothing else to shield him from the world. “We’re just faking it.”

Darren doesn't say anything, and then he sits up. "Yeah." It's an abrupt answer for Darren, for anyone. "Hey, I'm thinking pizza tonight. Extra cheese and no olives, right?" 

"Yeah-" Chris answers. Darren's gone before Chris can even say anything else. 

The pizza comes an hour later. Darren tells Chris not to get up and brings him a Diet Coke and three slices on a plate. 

"Are you staying?" Chris asks, sitting up. His knee is already better than the day before but it still throbs and aches. 

"I need to run lines. They changed the schedule around so they wouldn't lose time while you're out so now I've got like two scenes tomorrow that I only got the revisions for today." Darren gives him an apologetic look. "Sorry, man." 

Chris thinks about complaining that his leg hurts. He thinks about offering to run lines with Darren. Then he wonders why those are his first two thoughts, why his instinct is to try to convince Darren to say, and he ends up not saying anything at all. 

Darren leaves and Chris spends the rest of the evening watching Netflix and wondering why suddenly being so alone feels so bad.


	6. Chapter 6

Over the next couple of days, the mood in the apartment shifts a little. It's not as if Darren's ignoring Chris or giving him any kind of cold shoulder. He's just... not quite the same. He's not quite as bouncy and affectionate. 

Chris misses it but he's resigning himself to this being the new version of what passes for normal. He's gets wrapped up in trying to convince himself that it's okay that Darren is apparently finding other things to amuse himself. Chris hasn’t been on set; sure it’s only been a day, but maybe that’s enough. 

Chris tells himself it’s irrational to be jealous of everyone actually on set, especially when most of them would be grateful for a couple days off. Or maybe, he tells himself, Darren really thinks he just wants to be alone. 

But he is only out for a couple of days, and he manages to spend the second one relying less on Vicodin and actually getting some writing done for the clearer head. 

He knows that the schedule for filming is being rearranged for his benefit of his injury and that he’ll be filming something different from what he’d previously been told when he gets back to set that Friday, but he doesn't know what scene they’ve stuck in there until Darren comes home on Thursday night and drops a sheaf of papers in his lap. "So, tomorrow's the day." 

"What?" Chris flips through the pages. Some words immediately stand out. 

Long kiss, charged. 

Slowly undresses. 

Surface of the bunker desk. 

"Oh my god," Chris breathes out. "Really? I don't remember this being so-" 

"Uh, yeah, I think they snuck this one in on us." Darren looks faintly flustered as he sits down on the couch with Chris, safely at the other end. "I mean, some of this dialogue was like, rushed and on the go but since they had to switch to filming the running scenes with our doubles they moved the dialogue to the actual sex scene, and uh..." 

"This is twice as long as it was before." Chris flips through again. "Is this all we're doing tomorrow?" 

"Yep. Four scenes." Darren turns to face Chris and crosses his legs under himself. "I mean, one of them doesn't have much dialogue, it's just kind of... afterglow?" 

Chris makes a sound to acknowledge he's heard Darren, but he's distracted reading the additions. "So we fuck in an underground enemy bunker?" 

"Yep." Darren pops the p sound. "I just wanna know which one of us was carrying the lube." 

"Oh yes, those are the important questions." Chris stops looking at the script and looks at Darren. "So I guess we should probably run these lines." 

"Uh. Yeah. I mean, wouldn't hurt..." 

Chris nods slowly. "So." 

"So." 

"Alcohol?" 

"God yes," Darren says in a rush. 

Chris isn't even really sure why Darren's off his game about this. Chris is normally the one that has to psych himself up for scenes that involve intimacy with other people. But just like misery, anxiety loves company. Somehow it makes Chris feel better that Darren... doesn't feel better. 

They end up ordering a pizza and wait until they're both two beers in before they actually crack the scene pages open. 

*

Chris thinks after the informal rehearsals (just dialogue and positioning discussion, none of the... actual practice) he's got a better handle on this. 

He stops thinking that as soon as he actually shows up on set. It's closed, as per his standing request for anything like this. Though really - there hasn't been anything like this, exactly. He and Darren have kissed on screen plenty of times, had a couple of shirtless scenes, some tension building proximity alerts, but nothing quite so raw and blunt as this. 

They're pulling out all the stops for this movie, clearly. 

They're taken into wardrobe and hair/makeup separately but finish more or less at the same time, Chris requiring longer to dress and Darren longer for his hair. 

There are a couple of dry runs to get the positioning down, a quick memorization of marks and then a couple of quick adjustments. The desk is too high - Chris will have to lift Darren a little to press him back against it. There's a strange reflection, it takes a few minutes to work that out. They rehearse again, with dialogue. A couple more adjustments are made. 

They're about to reset it for a final rehearsal when Darren says, "Hey, man, you mind if we just - go for it?" 

And Chris has never been more grateful. It's strange to dread a scene when acting is what he does, his profession and his vocation, but for something like this... with someone like this... he really just wants to get it over with. 

The director says okay, and Chris waits with his breath caught, waits until that moment where he snaps into character. And it's good, after that. He's himself, but he's Aiden and Aiden knows what he wants now. 

Aiden wants Bayani, and Aiden is going to fucking have him. 

Five minutes later Chris is pulling back with a smack. His lips are already tingling, already damp. He tries to remember if he felt this weird the last time they had a makeout scene. He's not sure how much this whole summer is fucking with his perception of things. He can feel Darren's sweat on his fingers. He can taste the faint mint of the gum Darren only spat out moments before the first take. It’s disconcerting. 

They reset and go again, then one more time after that with the whole one-take long shot. Then they go three more times for closeups from Chris's side, and three more after that for close ups on Darren. Chris can feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck. 

On the next take, something happens. 

There's a shift, minute but noticeable, actually a little fuck up that the camera hopefully won't catch. But Darren catches it and he starts to laugh, muffled by Chris's mouth on his. It opens him up though, parts his lips, and Chris just - goes for it. 

And Darren goes for it right back, hands reaching up to clutch at Chris's arms in a way they haven't before, body undulating a little, and suddenly even though Chris is completely aware that they're still being watched by at least a dozen people he can't seem to make himself stop. It's suddenly not Aiden and Bay at all. It's Chris and Darren. 

_We are not that cliche_ , Chris thinks, but he goes back in, wants more, greedy and high on a wet mouth slip-sliding against his, a wet tongue gliding in. He likes this. It's a revelation, one that makes his chest tight and his throat burn. He _likes_ it. 

Darren breaks off, perfectly timed for the scene, but he seems to realize right away that Chris is shaken and… he flubs his line. It's on purpose. Chris can see it as clear as day, it's on purpose. 

He gets chided, gently enough since no one really yells at Darren for anything, but they've been going for probably two hours with the only pauses still filled with people, notes, the polite chatter that happens on a set when some people have a job to do and others don't just yet. 

"I'm getting some water," Chris announces, and heads toward where the drinks are kept. 

Darren follows him. "You okay?" 

"Yeah." Chris nods, rubbing a hand over his forehead (though careful of the hair). 

“I’ll get it,” Darren says, letting Chris sit while Darren grabs him a bottle of water. His hand covers Chris’s when he hands it over but if he notices how Chris's fingers are trembling, he doesn't say anything. "I’ll give you a minute, okay? But you know where I'll be if you need me." 

Then he walks away, probably the kindest thing he could do in that moment. The drink and the moment to himself actually help, and when Chris heads back over to him he's ready to start the scene again fully in character.

Whatever that was, Chris tells himself, it won’t happen again. 

*

Darren asks him twice more that day if he’s alright. Chris reassures Darren that he’s fine, but he feels like it’s very intentional the way Darren makes plans with someone else. 

“Hey, you hear the good news?” Becca asks him, as they head back from set. “They moved some stuff to studio so we don’t have to deal with another shitty hotel tomorrow night. We’re just driving down Sunday morning and I guess we’ll film until we lose light.”” 

“Oh, really?” Chris asks. He’s relieved on one hand because really, he’s not a fan of the hotel stays. 

But Darren invited him to dinner because they were going to be out of town, away from fans. He wants to text Darren and ask, but he’s not sure he’s ready for Darren to cancel on him. 

Chris is so preoccupied between that and what he’s trying to think of as just a strange moment of character bleed that it catches him off guard when Darren approaches him the next morning to say, "Is it cool if we eat around six?" 

"Oh - dinner? You still wanted to?" Chris asks, trying to play it cool. “Even though we’re only filming out of town for one day?” 

"Yeah, man, of course." Darren smiles at him. There's something a little restrained about it, but it's still a smile and Chris still has that swoop of relief deep in his gut at the idea that Darren wants to hang out with him. It happens every time. "So, six?" 

"Yeah, yes. Six is fine." 

"Your leg gonna handle it?" 

"I'm practically back to new." Chris does a little step and twirl, then winces. "Okay, not new. But it's getting there." 

"I'll take dancing off the itinerary for the night, how's that? We'll just do a nice dinner somewhere around here." Darren smiles at him. “I’ve got a place in mind, actually.” 

"Dinner would be perfect." To be honest, if Darren really wanted to go dancing Chris would probably have agreed to that, too. "What's the dress code?" 

"Nicer than jeans, more casual than a suit," Darren says. "Don't worry. You'll look good no matter what." 

Chris scoffs. "You don't need to waste your breath on flattery." 

Darren lifts one eyebrow and shrugs. "Hey, I mean it." Then he walks away, leaving that remark hanging alone in a room with a confused and stunned Chris. 

*

The restaurant is nice. It's twenty minutes away in light traffic, tucked down a street that doesn't look particularly flashy or tourist driven. It's Mexican food with a classy twist, a live band so subtle it almost blends into the atmosphere, and a waitress that addresses them both as 'sir' and smiles sweetly when she tells them the beer they carry on tap at a bar that must be located in a different room. 

"This is nice," Chris says. 

"Yeah?" Darren's hopeful. "I wanted to find somewhere you'd enjoy." 

He looks like he means it, and that hasn't stopped catching Chris off guard. 

The waitress comes around to bring them chips and salsa to split. They both get beer, though Darren acknowledges, "Just one. Downside of driving myself." 

"Why did you?" Chris asks. "We could have called a car." 

"I like the personal touch." Darren grins, cheeky. "And it was more discreet." 

"More? Aren't we supposed to be aiming for less?" 

Darren shrugs. "Not really what tonight's about." 

Chris is confused by that so he doesn't respond, just lets the moment pass as their drinks are brought over. 

It takes him until halfway through his steak fajitas to realize what tonight is about. Awareness socks him in the jaw as he looks at Darren's face, the smile lines around the corners of his mouth, the creases along his eyes that deepen so endearingly when he's laughing like he's laughing now... 

It's a date. 

Darren's in the middle of a story, talking about something he and his brother did in their twenties - a freak out of a trip the week after Chuck proposed to his now-wife. It involves Disneyland and their mother having to come pick them up even though they were in their early twenties and something about the combination of Darren telling it and the mental image Chris has of Darren as barely more than a kid feeling like he was on top of the world - Chris is utterly enthralled. 

When's the last time he even had a date this good? Never, Chris is fairly sure. Not that all of the dates he's been on have been bad... there's just never been anyone he felt this comfortable with while still having the spark and allure. 

Chris has always hated the way when he felt like he really knew someone, they stopped being quite so interesting to him. But sitting across the table from Darren, he realizes that like or not - he does know Darren. 

And Darren knows him. 

This feels like a date, but not a first date. It feels good, it feels exciting, but it doesn't feel new. It feels safe; almost dangerously safe, because Chris isn't sure he can really trust what everything in him is telling him to do: relax and enjoy this. 

Except now he’s thinking of Darren and dates and the way it felt to kiss him the day before and he has to take a drink of his wine to chase the dryness from his throat. 

If this really were a date, maybe they could do that again. And no, fuck, nope, Chris will not get hard at the dinner table in a restaurant with his co-star. He’s not a fucking teenager, but apparently his dick is confused on the issue. 

Darren trails off mid-sentence. "Everything okay?" 

"Yeah." Chris forces a smile, shaking his head a bit to clear the fog of his own thoughts he's falling in. He pointedly does not drop a hand down to his lap to adjust himself because he feels like punishing his wayward libido. "I'm fine." 

"You sure? Am I talking your ear off?" 

"No, no. Go on." Chris clasps his hands together, raised on elbows that rest on the tabletop, and props his chin on his knuckles. "Go on. I want to hear exactly how you explained that to your mother." 

Darren dives right back into talking. Chris listens this time, allowing himself to smile and laugh along with Darren. 

* 

Nothing earth-shattering happens that night, except that they do have a good time and Chris manages to not actually think about anything that would bring him down until they're all the way back to their apartment. 

He even gives Darren a shy little smile and an impulsive kiss on the cheek before bed, pausing with his lips to the half-grown beard on Darren's cheek to whisper, "This was fun." 

He doesn't let himself look back to check Darren's expression as he shuts his bedroom door behind him. He's too anxious over what it would be, not at all ready to face confusion or excitement either one. 

He picks up his phone and texts Becca. 

He changes clothes and by the time he's flopped back onto his bed, she's replied. There's also a missed call, but he ignores that. He's too afraid Darren would hear him through the thin wall between their bedrooms.

Chris stares at the message. He doesn't agree with her armchair psychology, but he can't bring himself to dismiss it outright either. 

* 

Chris sleeps restlessly, waking up a few times with a mind full of fragments of dreams. There’s Darren and sex, sweaty and naked and leaving him hard, but there’s also laughter, and something with cotton candy, and something that makes his chest yearn at the weird hour of four a.m.. He wakes up remembering the feeling but not what caused it, and wanting to do anything to chase it away. 

Without knowing how he knows, he’s certain that being near Darren would soothe it. He also knows that it’s a Sunday, and a location shooting day, and there will be a van to pick them up by eight a.m. 

When his alarm goes off at seven he’s already awake, laying there and thinking of the pure hell that will be riding there while Darren holds court with his friends. His paranoid mind is already turning it into a situation that won’t end well for him, no matter if Darren means any ill will or not. 

He gets up and showers, makes it into his bedroom in time to hear Darren starting his own shower. He stays in his bedroom until he hears the shower turn off and then walks to the kitchen, finding something to eat for breakfast. The studio set them up with boxes of protein bars and easy meal replacements. Darren’s a fan of fruit so he’s kept them in stock there, and Chris is glad. He snags an apple for himself and eats it while he waits on Darren. 

There’s no conversation at first when Darren joins him. He looks still half asleep despite the water dripping from his curls. He looks sweet and soft and no amount of biting his tongue stops the impulsive words jumping from Chris’s mouth to hang in the air between them. 

"Hey," Chris says. "Can we just take your car?" 

"You want to?" Darren asks, talking around half a banana he's calling breakfast. “I mean, they’re sending a van.” 

"I'm just not up to... people," Chris says. "It's one of those days." 

Darren's expression fills with concern. He even puts his banana down. "Everything okay?" 

"Yeah." Chris nods. "Just didn't sleep well, and..." 

And Darren's arms still look inviting, the white t-shirt he's wearing looks like it would be soft to rest a cheek against, the stubble on his face looks like it would be scratchy and delightful against his skin. 

In other words, Chris is not ready to address or accept the truth of what's happening here because it's an exhausting process but he’s willing to at least admit that there’s something he’s avoiding. It’s progress. 

And the idea of hours in a car with Darren might not actually lead to any kind of solution, but it's an exciting distraction anyway. 

"One of those mornings?" Darren prompts. 

"Yeah." Chris nods. 

Darren seems to be learning the skill of knowing when to pry for information and when to just leave it alone, because instead of pushing for Chris to explain anything he calls and gets permission to ride by themselves, and the address to put into his GPS.

Darren goes to finish getting ready after that. There aren’t many words exchanged between them until they're on the road, following the directions by the computer voice. 

Chris stares at it. "Is your GPS in Italian?" 

Darren grins. "Yep. I didn't want to get rusty." 

"You are so weird! Are you that fluent?" 

"Yeah, I actually am. But I switch it around sometimes, too. I've got settings for French, German, and Spanish. And Japanese but you would not believe how lost I got, I'm not quite on the GPS level with it yet." 

"You - seriously?" Chris is baffles. "Why?"

Darren shrugs. "I like languages. I started when I was a kid, I mean, I was raised bilingual just from my mom but she realized I caught on pretty fast and she started hiring tutors. I got French and Spanish from that, she thought that would make me pretty well-rounded. So in high school I wanted to learn something I didn't already know, I went for Italian. It came in handy, I actually went to Italy for a while with a study abroad program." 

"You have just... lived so much." Chris shakes his head a little. "I still feel like I haven't." 

"Are you shitting me?" Darren laughs. "Dude, you're a fucking TV star, you've lived." 

"Job related stuff, but I haven't really done that much just for me." Chris is uncomfortably aware even as he says it of how silly it sounds. "Just - the big stuff. Traveling for weeks purely for fun. Hands on learning for stuff that actually interest me." 

Darren doesn't make fun of him though. He just asks, "Why not?" as he glances over at Chris. "I mean, you have the money." 

"I guess I don't want to do it alone," Chris says. "As far as traveling goes. But the classes... I mean, a degree is kind of useless at this point, I'm in my thirties and it's not like I need it for a job." 

"You think the only purpose to education is to get a job?" Darren's dubious. 

"No, I'm saying the only purpose to paying for an education is to get a job. I can learn on my own, and I always have. Besides, I didn't learn well in a classroom setting." Chris is a little defensive, but there's a thirteen year old buried deep inside of him still prickly about all those C's and D's he brought home. 

"Are you telling me you, Mr. Christopher Know It All Colfer, was a bad student?" 

"That is exactly what I'm saying." Chris sighs dramatically. "I know, it's hard to believe." 

"It's fucking impossible to believe, actually. I would have pegged you more for class valedictorian." 

"I spent all of middle school and high school just wishing I could be anywhere else, doing anything else. I made it through two years of junior college while living with my parents before I had enough money saved up and I took off once I could." 

"To Los Angeles?" Darren asks. 

"Yeah. I got a couple of jobs, wrote and auditioned..." 

"And you published back then, didn't you?" Darren clearly knows the story, and Chris is curious to know how. They've never talked about it together. 

"We don't talk about those dark days." Chris adds air quotes to the last couple of words. "My books didn't sell for shit." 

"Well, they do now!" 

Chris rolls his eyes. "I'm not sure I want to talk about that, either." 

"Why? Is something up?" 

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Yeah, they want to kill the last two books I'm under contract for." 

"The fuck?" Darren almost shouts. "They can't do that, can they?" 

"They shouldn't be able to," Chris says. "But they're trying." 

"Why? I mean, you still sell like really fucking well, come on." 

"But I won't sell well when the show ends, and they're not counting on it getting picked up again. They don't have faith in me without a television show behind me." The words hang out there once he says them. 

"Well, that's dumb as fuck, too. For one thing, you're a good enough writer to make it without the tv show, but for another - so fucking what if this show does end? You'll just get another job. You're the best fucking actor on this entire show, and you're like-" 

Darren stops. 

"Like what?" Chris asks. 

"Ah." Darren grins ruefully. "I was gonna say hot as fuck, but, you know. Didn't know where that line is drawn at." 

Chris's stomach twists and turns pleasantly. "Um. That's allowed." 

There's a look between them, a moment where they both try to subtly glance at each other at the exact same moment, a faint little snicker echoed from one to the other at how poorly done that was. 

They're both smiling when Chris starts talking again. 

* 

Darren's phone buzzes about half an hour in. "Grab that for me?" 

"You want me to read your text?" 

"Yeah, just from the notification screen, it's cool." 

"You are so much more trusting than me," Chris mutters. He'd actually physically padlock his phone if it was an option. He hits the button to light the screen up. "Oh, it's a picture of Jenna's daughter. The text says 'Look who came to visit Mommy on set!' - why is she texting you that her daughter is there?" 

"Because I'm totally the favorite uncle," Darren brags. "Me and Dewdrop, we go way back." 

"I still can't keep a straight face about those names," Chris admits. 

Darren just laughs. "Don't hate. She's just doing her." 

"But - really. Dewdrop? Briar Patch? And what's the other one?" Chris can't remember. 

"Honeysuckle. Uh, that's the one I question most, honestly. I'm not sure any kid should have to go through junior high with the word 'suck' literally in their name." Darren points out. 

"Though she might have a decent future porn career or stripping..." 

Laughter bursts out of Darren. "I'm totally telling Jenna you said that." 

"No, don't! She'll kill me!"

"Or just take your advice and enroll them in pole dancing classes. so they start learning the moves early?" Darren grins. 

"Now it's my turn, I'm telling her you said that." 

"Hey now, that's totally a legit thing. It takes some fucking core strength to work that pole." 

"You seem rather knowledgeable." 

"I used to date someone." Darren grins. "You haven't lived until you've fucked someone who can hold their own body horizontal on their own strength." 

"... yes, well, clearly I just have not lived." Chris is both slightly envious of Darren's unique experience there, and slightly distracted picturing it.

"Of course, you're not too shabby either," Darren adds. "I've seen you work those stunts. You're more flexible now than I was as a kid." 

"I don't do too badly." Chris feels a little like toeing the line, and that's what leads him to respond the way he does. "I mean, I can't hold myself horizontal, but I can still bend into some creative positions." 

Darren chokes on his own spit. "Wow, well, just come out with it, then." 

Chris laughs. "I listened to you and Kevin have a half hour discussion on trying to suck your own dicks once. You can deal." He pauses. "Which I can do, by the way." 

"Holy shit. Like. What? Holy shit." Darren appears to have been blown. "You're shitting me right? You're not serious?" 

"Oh, I'm serious." Chris keeps going, emboldened by Darren's reaction. "Only the first couple of inches, but-" 

"Shit, Chris. You can't just talk about sucking your own dick while we're fucking driving." 

"Why?" Chris teases. "Turn you on?" 

Darren gives him too-short but undeniably heated look. "I don't know how to answer that and not get myself in trouble."

"Maybe you won't get in trouble," Chris says. 

Darren's mouth opens, then closes again. 

Chris has forgotten what it feels like to flirt with someone, the power trip that comes with knowing they're interested, the anxiety of not knowing how much, the paranoia that he's misunderstanding something, or Darren is... 

It's torture but it's good and it's fun and it's insane and he really needs Darren to say something like, right now. 

"I'm just saying, if I blow all my lines today because I'm thinking of you blowing yourself..." Darren shifts in his seat just a little. Chris wants to look down, to maybe gauge some interest there, but doesn't let himself. 

"What, you'll punish me?" Chris smirks. 

"Maybe. I know where you sleep." Darren reaches out and pokes him in the side. 

It's not what Chris is expecting. He laughs and jumps away a little. "I'll have to sleep with one eye open."

"Or just stay up all night. Stand guard. I'll keep you company." 

"You'll keep me company all night long while I avoid sleeping so you won't get me?" Chris laughs. "I'm not sure how that plan makes sense." 

"Maybe I just want another sleepover." Darren tries to sound innocent. "We can stay up late. I'll play some songs." 

"Maybe," Chris says. 

He knows he's probably confusing Darren right now. He's confusing himself, too. But when Chris doesn't elaborate, Darren doesn't push it. 

*

Filming is, in true form, exhausting. They're on a time crunch to get things while the lighting is just right and they can use the building. Everyone is tense and rushed and any setback is met with the kind of stressed out fury that is amplified when they're not in a studio. 

The actors aren't allowed to wander far off, always needing to be nearby so they can shoot as soon as setup is done. Most of them have last minute lines to learn, endless script changes, stunt prep... Chris is out of that one for the day, his double stepping in since he doesn't quite trust his knee to do any post-explosion lunging just yet. 

But there's no getting to leave set for lunch, and no personal trailers to escape to. 

Chris is grumpy and hungry and second guessing every word he'd said earlier that day. Darren is like an angel when he appears out of nowhere with a Diet Coke and a turkey sandwich for Chris. 

"You are amazing," Chris says, cracking open the can and smiling at the satisfying pop of the tab. He tips the can up and gulps, goosebumps on his arms from the delicious ice-cold of the drink. 

When he finishes half the can he lowers it from his mouth. Darren is staring at him, grinning a little. 

"What?" Chris makes a face at him. "Stop staring at me." 

"Can't help it," Darren says. "You're cute." 

"You're just full of compliments today." 

"And you're actually letting me compliment you today." 

"My, how far we've come." Chris says in an over the top breathy voice. It just makes Darren's smile grow. 

"So..." Darren leans over Chris's chair. "Some of the guys want to go out tonight, let loose a little after today. You up for it?" 

Chris meets Darren's eyes with his own. "I was actually hoping you and I could stay in." 

Darren's mouth drops open the tiniest bit, but he composes himself quickly. "Just want to keep it mellow?" 

Chris pauses. "Something like that." 

*

Chris knows he's throwing a lot of weird new signals out there. He can tell Darren is still trying not to overstep, still trying to find his footing. He could just go ahead and say something, ask that question he’s dying to ask, but he isn't going to have that kind of conversation in the middle of all their cast mates and the crew members milling around. 

So he waits. He waits until they're done filming for the day and back in the car. He keeps the conversation light during the drive, mostly talking about characters and how filming is going. 

Once they’re back at the apartment it’s obvious that Darren gets that this is leading to something. He’s not pressuring Chris but he does keep giving Chris measured looks that start as soon as they walk in the door. “So, what are you feeling for dinner? We go out, we stay in...” 

Chris has had enough of drawing this out, though. He takes a deep breath, and says, "I don't know what's going on here, but it's something, isn't it?" 

"Well, you started off the morning by telling me how you can suck your own dick..." Darren grins, then laughs at Chris's obvious embarrassment at how bluntly that was worded. "Sorry, are we past that now?" 

"One of us clearly isn't," Chris says, rolling his eyes. "But I'm serious. Yesterday really was a date wasn't it? You acted like it was a date."

Darren licks his lips nervously. "I mean, if you wanted it to be." 

"I'm asking you if you wanted it to be. If you meant for it to be," Chris clarifies. "I know how much you hate giving anyone a solid answer for anything, but I need to know. Because if you didn't, then I'm just making an idiot of myself even entertaining the idea of... something." 

"Well, that's not vague or anything," Darren says. 

"Okay, how specific do you want me to be? I don't exactly have any kind of basis for this. You're my co-star and I have no idea if there's actually something between us or if this is just some kind of weird character bleed from being on-" 

Darren lunges forward, hands cupping Chris's face and kisses him. Chris is stunned for a moment but then kisses back, his fingers circling Darren's wrists. The kiss is solid, not desperate but not timid, no grappling for power but no backing away. It's firm, a touch wet, and they both part with a satisfying sound when it comes to a natural, gradual end. 

"It was a date," Darren says, lips deep pink and eyes searching. “And you kissed me back, so I’m hoping that means that was okay. I don’t usually just grab someone and lay one on them, but this conversation had some leading context…”

Chris nods. "Okay. Um... okay. That - that was… fine. Um." He’s slightly dazed, but he realizes that maybe Darren is waiting for a certain response. "I wanted it to be a date. I didn't even realize it until it was over, but - it was good, it was a good date." 

"Okay, then." Darren nods like it's decided. "So we went on a date. Sweet." 

The last part is under his breath. Chris laughs because it's so ridiculous and Darren's hands are still on his face because he's still holding Darren by the wrist keeping them there and it's just so easy to reel Darren back in. Darren’s happy laugh is muffled by Chris’s mouth.

“We went on a date,” Chris says again, pulling away. He’s breathlessly turned on now and his mind is a whirlwind of so many things. He wants, suddenly, to just experience this without overthinking it. He just… _wants_. “And… now we’re going to have sex.” 

Darren’s eyebrows jump up high on his forehead. “Are we now?” 

“I mean…” Chris lets go of Darren’s wrists and drops his hands to Darren’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his t-shirt. “If you want to. Am I moving too fast for you?” 

“I don’t know. I feel like there should be more talking.” Darren bites his lip, unintentionally sexy. He pushes his hips forward and, fuck, Chris can feel him, a solid press against his hip that makes his breath stutter into a little whimper. “But I’m also really fucking turned on.” 

“You’re probably right,” Chris says… and leans over to lick where Darren’s teeth were just pressing into his lip. “There can be talking. There should be.” 

One more kiss turns into two turns into making out standing up, bodies in close. Chris drops his hands to circle around Darren's waist and Darren's are around his shoulders, creeping lower when he starts to kiss over Chris's jaw and down to his neck. "Do you want to talk now or after sex?" 

"I, oh-" Chris is distracted beyond belief, his body shouting one opinion while his mind decides if it’s on board. “After. After, please, after.” 

*

Chris loves men. He loves male bodies. He loves the confidence he feels from being with someone it’s obvious wants him back. He loves coaxing reactions out, the physical and the intangible. He loves the sweat and the muscle and the hair; Darren’s body is all of those things, and Chris doesn’t specifically set out to worship it but once he has Darren pinned to the bed, once he’s straddling those thick thighs, he just can’t help himself. It’s been awhile since he’s had someone in bed that he wanted this fucking much. He’s got years of late night jerk off fantasy to prove right or wrong; of course in the end it’s neither right _nor_ wrong, but he’s not in a mind to compare right now. 

Right now he just wants to enjoy this. He gets his mouth on every part of Darren that he can, kissing down the fuzzy chest, licking those little red nipples, moaning against the pudge around his stomach that Darren’s been losing the battle against since he hit his mid-thirties while Darren’s cock rises to nudge just under his chin. 

He goes down on Darren with a single-minded purpose, a messy blowjob full of sucks and licks and moans that send the sound vibrating through Darren in a feedback loop of erotic joy. He whines his displeasure when Darren nudges his shoulders to get him up, but the protests die in his throat when Darren rolls them over and takes control. 

“You’re so hot,” Darren says. “My turn, okay?” 

He lines them up together and strokes them both at once. Chris laughs, a husky sound as his body strains upward at the grind of Darren’s wet cock against his own just-leaking one. 

Darren braces himself over Chris and moves his hips in a mimic of real fucking. Chris can’t decide what feels better; the moving friction or the feeling of being surrounded and the constant pressure when Darren stops moving to kiss him, fingers raking through the hair on Chris’s own chest. 

“Top or bottom?” Darren asks, kissing the corner of Chris’s mouth then leisurely licking deep inside. 

“Top, usually,” Chris says. He hasn’t bottomed in a few years, but right now he’d genuinely be up for anything Darren actually wanted. “But it’s fine if-” 

“No backtracking,” Darren orders. His voice is light but his eyes are intense. “I want that dick so far in me you’re fucking my tonsils from the wrong direction.” 

“Oh god.” Chris can’t help it, he giggles. “Is that what you call dirty talk?” 

“Hey!” Darren pouts. “My dirty talk is top notch, I’ll have you know.” 

“It’s your dick that’s top notch. That’s probably how no one has called you on the dumb dirty talk before.” Chris grabs Darren and presses their chests tight together as they wrestle slightly, distracted by hips humping together and mouths touching. But Chris gets Darren on his back again. “You have stuff?” He asks, because they’re in Darren’s room not his own. 

“Top drawer,” Darren says. Chris slides it open and there’s a bottle of lube three quarters gone and a small unopened three-pack of condoms. Chris feels a shameful little spark of pleasure at the sealed box. “I um, got those after the club.” 

“So what, you assumed then we’d end up in bed?” Chris asks, while he slicks two fingers up. He rubs one against Darren’s hole just to be an ass. 

Darren gasps at the touch of cold lube, but laughs as he says, “Just wanted to make sure in case something did happen.” 

“I mean, you didn’t necessarily need condoms…” Chris says, then at Darren’s dubious look clarifies. “I mean, there are things that we could have still done without them.” 

“Yeah, but - _oh_ -” He breaks off slightly as Chris gets those two fingers in. “But I didn’t know what all you were into. I mean some guys just want to get straight to it…” 

“And some guys don’t want to get ‘into it’ at all.” Chris is actually enjoying the way Darren seems capable of holding a conversation during sex. 

“But you do,” Darren says. 

Chris looks down at his two fingers buried to the second knuckle in Darren’s ass. “I think that’s established.” 

Darren squirms against him. “Come on, I’m good. Another.” 

“We can do the other stuff… later.” Chris gets the lube propped against his leg and then uses the hand that had been holding it to loosely stroke Darren’s cock. It’s really a nice one; just long and thick enough for Chris to know it would leave him satisfyingly full, flushed a dark red. It looks like a real cock, not some pale picture perfect thing in a porn video. The veins are prominent, balls hefty, black thatch of hair at the base trimmed to tame it but still very much there. 

“You uh, like the view?” Darren asks, and Chris realizes he’s caught staring but really, staring at your partner’s dick in bed doesn’t feel like such a faux paus. 

Chris shrugs. “Maybe.” 

“Well, I do.” Darren’s eyes lock on Chris’s own dick, and Chris glances down like he’s trying to imagine how Darren is seeing it. They’re guys, they’ll compare, of course; Chris is slightly longer, slightly thinner, fewer veins, more of a deep pink than Darren’s angry red, but more purple near the tip. 

Chris starts to snicker. “We should go online later and figure out who got it closest to right.” 

“Sex totally loosens you up, doesn’t it?” Darren beams at him. 

“Right now I think it’s you being loosened up…” 

“Speaking of.” Darren squeezes around him briefly. “I’m good, I’m - ready. Bring it on, big daddy.” 

“If you call me daddy in bed, I’m not bringing you anything except a tissue to wipe off with after you finish yourself off.” It’s a strict warning belied by the fact that Chris can’t stop fucking smiling. 

“Oh god,” Darren chokes around a laugh and maybe a little bit of a moan, too. “You’re fucking bossy, in bed, aren’t you?” 

Chris lifts an eyebrow. “I prefer to think of it as knowing what I like. But if you were expecting something more demure, I mean, I am an actor. I can give it a shot.” 

“Don’t you change a fucking thing about yourself right now,” Darren orders. “I wasn’t complaining. Except maybe about the fact that your dick isn’t in me yet. That, you can change.” 

“And I’m the one being bossy?” Chris rolls the condom on and presses the tip against Darren’s hole. This is his favorite part of sex, that awe-inspiring moment where he watches himself sink in at the same time he’s feeling it. 

There’s not as much conversation after that, at least not verbally. There is a grappling of hands and arms and mouths, a symphony of little noises they don’t even notice, of grunts and whines and gasps when a stroke in lands just right. Darren jerks himself off and Chris wants to take over, to do more, but he’s too invested in chasing the orgasm building in his balls, bubbling at the base of his spine. 

Halfway through his thighs ache from the position and he realizes he either needs to come quickly or move. He doesn’t want it to be over, so he pulls Darren’s legs flat on either side of him and shuffles forward without losing his placement. His thrusts don’t have the same power but he can hover more closely over Darren now, their chests pressing together. It’s closer, it’s more intimate, and he can tell from the way Darren shakes in his arms and kisses him with so much more desperation, that Darren doesn’t mind. 

Darren comes first, only moments later, making a mess that smears between them. Chris hadn’t even realized how close Darren was but he wants to learn those signs. He wants to do this so many more times, he doesn’t want this to ever end - 

But Darren grabs his ass and hauls him in close and whispers hot in his ear, “Fill me up, baby, come on, give it to me.” 

And it doesn’t matter that he isn’t really filling Darren up, that his come goes no further than the confines of the condom pooling it around the tip of his cock. The intent of the words does its job, and by the time he’s just trembling with the aftershocks of it his vision is dancing and his eyes are wet. 

*

Afterward, when the sweat is cooling and come and lube have been wiped away, Chris thinks this might get awkward. His mind is trying to go all kinds of bad places, that way it tends to do, and Darren must be able to see it because it's Darren that drives it away with his relentless laughter, his willingness to be a goofball and coax Chris into smiling as many times as he needs. 

It's Darren that sprawls over him, admiring his body shamelessly, kissing and licking and petting him even though the sex is done and neither of them are going to be immediately up for a round two. It's Darren that whispers in his ear, "I wanted this," and makes Chris feel so much so fast that his head spins. 

"I did, too," he admits. 

"All summer, I just - I've just been thinking about you." 

Chris snorts. "All summer." 

"Yeah, what?" Darren asks. 

It's like releasing a shameful secret from the silence it's been buried in. "Try for years." 

"You - what?" This time Darren looks stunned. 

"Not like, not like that, not - I wasn't in love with you." It's a defense a touch too harsh. "I just, I had a crush on you, back in that first year." 

Darren looks like the ground has just been yanked from underneath him. "No way." 

Chris has to fight the urge to get up and leave the bed. Walking away won't make this any easier. He'd just stress about all that went unsaid. "I did. You didn't know, it's okay." 

"It feels not okay," Darren says. "Is that why you just went all cold on me all of a sudden?"

Chris allows Darren the response that feels honest to him. "I think... I was mad at you, for a long time. For not - noticing me." 

"Are you shitting me? Of course I noticed you, you were like - you were my best friend in the house, man." 

"Best friends." Chris repeats, even the sex they just had not quite taking the sting out of that. "That wasn't quite what I wanted back then." 

"Shit." Darren stares at him, upset and confused and hurting, though Chris can't figure out why he would be. "Shit. I was such an idiot that year, too. I mean, I know I was. I was a dick and I... fuck." 

"You didn't do anything wrong," Chris says, sitting up. He tugs the blanket so it covers his lap, feeling like this isn't really a dicks-out kind of conversation but not quite inspired to actually figure out where his underwear went. 

"You never said anything." 

"What would I have said? Hey, Darren, can you please stop sleeping with the entire cast, it kind of hurts my feelings?" The annoyance rises fast and true in Chris's voice. "Or I could have just gone all out and asked why not me?" 

"You know why not you!" Darren protests. 

"No, I actually don't." Chris crosses his arms over his chest. He's closing up, physically and emotionally, his capacity for emotional vulnerability maxed out.

"Because it meant too much," Darren says. "Look, when I started on this show, you know I'd just come out, right? Like the year before. I was kinda still flying on that. I tried for so many fucking years to hide who I was. I had people left and right telling me bisexual guys don't make it in Hollywood, the world doesn't understand bi guys. I could be straight and have a career, I could come out and maybe work that niche to a less successful level, but I couldn't say hey, world, I like dick and tits equally. Then I did, I finally fucking did, and I guess I became a teenager again for a while or something. I partied hard and hit on everyone and fucked anything that moved, and it was what I needed back then. I would have made such a shitty boyfriend, though, seriously. I wasn't ready for that, and even back then I knew just from looking at you that you deserved more than that." 

"Okay." Chris uncrosses his arms, but keeps them tight to his body until Darren grabs his hand. He's at a level of anxiety too high for words alone to immediately soothe, but it's still just nice to hear that maybe it wasn't him not being good enough. 

"And especially after that whole thing with Vanessa," Darren says, wincing slightly. "She fucking left the show because of me, Chris, because we had a thing that I didn't realize she was putting so much into and I hated how I made her feel. I hated it. I still hate it. I'll go to my fucking grave hating it. I decided then and there I wasn't going to do that to anyone else, I wasn't going to get into any situations with people that might actually have feelings for me." 

"Then what about..." 

"Mia?" Darren asks. "She knew what was up. We weren't exclusive for years. To be honest I'm not sure she wasn't fucking other guys the whole time we said we would try it. And I didn't care. You know? I didn't. She fucking married someone else, and I didn't care. I thought maybe I was broken or something, after that. Maybe I was just done with relationships." 

"So what changed that?" Chris's heart is in his throat. Darren's saying so many words and he's saying so few but they're like hell to work out of his chest. 

Darren simply says, "You." 

"Oh-" Chris covers his face with his hands because suddenly he wants to smile and his mood has gone in so many different directions so quickly that he feels like he could puke. Darren tugs his hands away and then they're kissing, a sweeter kind of kiss than before. When they part Chris buries his face in Darren's neck while Darren rubs a hand over his back. 

"I'm serious." Darren whispers, turning to press kisses to his cheek and jaw. "This summer feels good. It scares the fuck out of me, how good it feels." 

"Do you actually think you're ready to be in a relationship now?" Chris asks, feeling like he's gotten himself under control. 

He expects a yes, but instead Darren hesitates. "I want to be." 

There it is, that sinking feeling again. "I don't know what you mean by that." 

"I mean, I want to be ready, I want to be with you. I don't know how to know if I really am, though," Darren says. "I feel like we've already been in a relationship, it's weird." 

"But not a real one. That was fake. That was for show." 

"You and me, here alone, that hasn't been fake." 

"No, but it hasn't been a relationship, either. This has been us... getting to know each other. Up until tonight, this has been a friendship, not a relationship." Chris wants to be careful, he wants to know that Darren understands the difference there. "Relationships happen because two people know and choose to be in them."

"Then I want to choose that," Darren says, immediately. 

But his previous hesitation still rests uneasily with Chris. He tries to think of a way to make them both happy, in this moment, without setting themselves up for a fall. "Okay," Chris says. "What if... we do this for the next month, and see how it works? If it goes well, then we can talk about how you feel about keeping it going then. If it doesn't, then we just walk away." 

"I don't get why that's any different than dating without stipulations and breaking up if it doesn't work," Darren says. "Which, by the way, is a fucking depressing thing to be talking about literally as we get together." 

Chris isn’t sure how to explain to Darren that this is what makes him feel better. This is how he operates; limiting blind faith in things so he isn’t disappointed later on when it doesn’t work. "Welcome to dating a pessimist." 

A bright grin still pops onto Darren's face at the word dating. He leans in and steals a kiss. "Okay, noted." Another one. "So, dating. It's official, right?" 

"For now," Chris says. "It's probably better this way, anyway. We don't know if the show is getting picked up. There's no point in jumping into something when we may end up in completely different places, anyway." 

It tugs at his heart to be considering the end of something that's only just begun, but he's not the kind of person to sink into a false sense of security. 

But what he can do is try to enjoy this while he has it.


	7. Chapter 7

Chris has lunch with Becca the next day. 

She can tell something's going on the moment they sit down across from her. She knows exactly what it is by the time the waiter walks away with their drink order. 

"You fucked him," she says, leaning as far as she can across the table. "You totally fucked him." 

"Oh my god, do you have spies outside my apartment windows or something?" His jaw drops. "How the fuck did you know it?" 

"Your aura is oozing just-got-laid," she says. "Was it amazing?" 

"Why are you asking me? You've already had sex with him, you should know." Chris almost manages to not even be bitter about that this time. 

"Yeah, but we just had a half drunk fuck. You guys had tension. You had build up. I bet it was explosive." 

"It was good," Chris says. He pauses, then adds, "Really good." 

"From you, that basically means it took you to the astral plane." Becca gloats. "I know you guys would have crazy good chemistry in the sheets. And it doesn't even matter on screen! A' and Bay got it on too, so you can rock the afterglow vibe double time." 

There's a pause while they get their drinks and then the waiter leaves again. "So we're dating." 

"There's a but." Becca doesn't even have to ask. 

"But we agreed it's really just for the summer," Chris says. 

Becca groans. "You're an idiot." 

"We're just seeing how it works out." Chris defends the decision. "We thought it would be best." 

"We?" Becca questions. "Or you said that's how it is and Darren went along?" 

Chris realizes she may have a point, but doesn't think it makes a difference. "He had a say in it." 

"Right, but he thinks you're the cat's meow so you could probably say just about anything and he'd agree if you kept dating him." 

"Becca." 

"Come on, it's so true. There's a reason no one in the whole cast or crew has called you on the dating being a sham. It's because everyone has been following this little soap opera that is Criss and Colfer for years. From you being all moony-eyed and heartbroken the first season to Darren suddenly looking at you like you're his moon and stars since last year and then dumping his girlfriend as soon as he realized you were single again." 

"Wait - what?" This is new information to Chris. 

"Come on, you dumped bozo-face and then like a week later Darren's girlfriend is out of the picture?" 

"She married someone else," Chris says. 

"Uh, they broke up first." Becca looks at him like he's being particularly slow about something. "He thought he might have a chance with you." 

"You would have said something," Chris argues. 

"No, I wouldn't have," Becca says. "Because I knew how fucked up you were over him the first time and I didn't know if Darren would even be able to keep his dick in his pants for anyone." 

"How can you be so sure now?" Chris asks. 

"Because he wasn't even dating you and he's been faithful," Becca says. "You know he could get ass or pussy any night he wanted, but instead he hangs around with your lame weirdo ass in your apartment watching Netflix and seems to love it. That's how I know he means it." 

"Well, I hope he doesn't think I'll suddenly get more exciting." Even as he says it with false bravado Chris feels a stab of worry.

"No, dumbass, you don't get it. He actually really loves doing that. Because it's with you. You are officially more fun to him than a party or a random fuck. He's not faking that, okay? It's not some kind of act. I mean, he's good, but he's not that good. You're the life of his party, babe." Becca's smile and voice betray the kindness behind her words. "And I'm glad, because you deserve someone like that." 

"I don't want to get too attached," Chris admits. "I don't want to have it and then him decide I'm not worth it." 

Chris is always the one in that position. He's always the one deciding to walk away. He doesn't know if it's a control he likes to assert after years of closeted crushing on straight boys or just his personality getting more brash as he's older, but he can't remember ever being in a relationship where he actually thought the other person had that kind of sway over him... the kind that he already knows Darren could have. 

"My advice?" Becca says. "Don't worry so much. You came up with this crazy just-a-summer thing, so really enjoy it and maybe think about telling yourself it's okay to get a little more attached." 

"I'll try," Chris says, a more honest promise than he'd made to Darren but one he fully does intend on keeping. 

* 

He doesn't film with Darren for the next few days. It’s annoying to know that Darren’s an hour away but it almost makes the evenings better. It’s been a long time since Chris has been with someone that he could miss just in the span of a few hours, someone that he just couldn’t get enough of. The first few nights they come home greedy for each other, tumble into bed and wear each other out learning their bodies and the best ways they move together. They order take out and eat naked, take turns showering, have sex again. They sleep in whatever bed is cleanest and wake together in the morning. 

They don’t talk a lot, but that’s okay. Maybe Darren senses that Chris is talked out for a while. Maybe Darren just doesn’t think there’s anything that needs to be said. It’s fine, either way. Chris wants to be able to just fully enjoy… _this_. If he talks too much, if he thinks too much, he’ll pop this bubble of suspended disbelief that he’s in. He’ll realize it’s really too good to be true. 

Thursday night is usually a go-out night. They know they’re done filming for the day but they’re waiting around for the final call to release them when Jenna asks Darren if he has plans. Chris can see him hesitate slightly before saying, "Oh, I don't know, me and Chris might just stay in." 

"You guys are so boring," Jenna whines. "Come on, Chris. We all get it, you tamed him. Now let him out to play?" 

Chris reacts on instinct, heart thumping and embarrassment washing over him at the same time he feels some level of pride for the fact that they actually think he has that much influence over Darren. 

He's not expecting Darren's defense of him, subtle and aimed at taking the attention away rather than turning it. "Says the literal old married. Don't lie, if your hubby was here we wouldn't be having this conversation. You'd just be trying for baby number four." 

Jenna's face lights up. "We actually are-" 

And Jenna dives into a whole conversation about how she and her husband have decided to expand the family again. Chris is happy for her but doesn't feel inclined to stick around for it. He mumbles an excuse about going to the restroom and then wanders off to marvel at how Darren just casually and openly hinted at their sex life.

Later when the topic of dinner comes up again, Chris actually looks over at Darren and says, "I think it might be fun." 

Darren looks surprised but not unhappy. 

*

The dinner out is fun. He and Darren sit smushed in close in a booth, touching enough to satisfy them both. It feels so good to not feel guilty about enjoying the proximity, the way Darren's touches linger, or the way it feels to catch his eye and smile. 

They both try to not be too obvious about the change, considering it's a change that was supposed to have happened a month or two ago, but it's difficult. They even get called on it when Kevin slides his eyes over to them and says, "I'll have what they're having." 

"Your ass couldn't take it," Becca says, winking at him. "At least not without a lot of prep." 

Everyone just laughs, and Chris surprises himself by being okay with it. 

He's not sad when the dinner is over and Darren makes no move to follow them to the club. No one pushes for it and Chris wonders how on earth this is all working out so easily, if maybe Darren said something to someone so they didn't pry. 

Once they're back home, he asks. "So you didn't want to go have a drink with them?" 

"Nah," Darren says. "Just dinner was cool. Did you want to?" 

"Not really," Chris answers. "I just don't want to be... holding you back." 

"Chris." Darren walks over to him and pulls him in for a hug. "I'll let you know if I get cabin fever, I promise." 

Chris indulges in resting his head on Darren's shoulder. "Okay, then." 

*

"Shit," Chris says, staring at the email that just popped up in his inbox. 

Darren has been dozing with his legs across Chris's lap while Chris worked. It's a casual kind of physicality that Chris isn't used to, but doesn't mind nearly as much with Darren as he had with boyfriends in the past. There's something about how it's just second nature to Darren. He's not trying to assert anything with his casual invasion of Chris's space, he's just showing his comfort level there. 

"What?" Darren lifts his head and asks, stifling a yawn immediately after. 

"I forgot about the thing this weekend," Chris says. 

"Oh, the con?" Darren perks up a little. "Yeah, I'm doing Saturday and Sunday. Wait - why'd you get an email?" 

"Alla wants me to go. Special guest thing." Chris sighs. "No photos or autographs, just show up for a panel or two." 

"So why don't you want to?" Darren asks. "Do you know how kick ass a panel with the two of us would be? Come on. Plus, you'd round it out, the whole cast will be there besides you. Even Grant and Lady Di." 

"It's just a lot of people." It's a weak excuse and Chris knows it. He stares down at the email with a date and a time and Alla's version of a 'please' before shutting the laptop and sighing. 

"Hey, c'mere." Darren holds out both arms and Chris lets himself be guided horizontal, laying stiff against Darren until he lets out a sigh and relaxes. "There we go. Now, come on. You know this weekend is a good idea. You and me killing it on stage... and we won't even have to fake it now." 

Chris doesn't know how to explain to Darren that it being real now is most of the reason why he's suddenly dreading it. He had a childhood full of having no say in anything like that. He's not the kind of guy that can easily pass, so his biggest and most important secret was right there on display for anyone and everyone. High school meant that anyone looking at him knew exactly what he was and used it against him. As an adult, he's always taken great care in keeping some things to himself. 

He doesn't really want the world to get to have a say in him and Darren, but being a celebrity means that valid or not the audiences will think they do. The types of fans who care the most are the ones who show up at these things. 

"Do you think they could moderate the questions?" Chris asks. "Is there a way to do that?" 

Darren hesitates. "I don't know, but we can definitely ask." 

"Because if I'm up there and refuse to answer something..." 

"Yeah, that never goes over well," Darren agrees. "I bet they can figure something out. We'll take some audience questions first and then you come on stage and answer some they pulled from the internet or something?" 

"That might work." Chris knows he'll feel better without the element of surprise. "And I don't want anyone to know I'm showing up." 

Darren's hand sweeping up and down over his back feels nice. "We can try, but you know they're already guessing. The whole cast is in town, they know that." 

"Fuck the internet," Chris mumbles. 

Darren's chest shakes under him with laughter. "Be careful with that offer. The internet will expect you to follow through, and I don't think I want to be at that level of sharing." 

Warmth settles low in Chris's gut. "Oh yeah?" 

"Mhm. I mean... this thing is exclusive, right?" 

Chris lifts his head up to kiss Darren, ignoring the awkward angle of it. "I hope so. I'm definitely not good at sharing." 

"Well, then consider Property of Colfer stamped on my ass." 

Chris lowers his head back to Darren's chest just to hide the grin on his face. "Will do." 

*

The weekend comes too soon. Darren gets up and heads out early, while Chris is still asleep. The hotel hosting the convention is close enough that he can easily drive there himself and park in a secure employee lot. They'll send a car for Chris later, since Chris didn't have much interest in waiting around in a green room while Darren had four hours of autograph sessions and posed photos with fans. 

But he is curious, so he opens his laptop and he finds himself searching in Darren's name, and the hashtag that the convention is using. It hits him as he scrolls through how just... happy everyone is. He laughs at some of their comments on Darren's outfit, checks out people who are livetweeting every line said during panels, watches as photographs and hasty snapshots of autographs start to get posted. 

His entire morning goes by in a blur of vicariously living the event, then he forces himself to close his computer, picks his own outfit carefully, then heads for the venue. 

*

The hotel is crowded, laughter and shouts and occasional enthusiastic rounds of applause or screaming bleeding through the walls. Darren's laughing when he and Jenna walk in. 

"Hey, you made it!" Darren heads straight for him, leaning down for a kiss. "I have the germs of about five hundred fans on me, sorry." 

"You would not believe how many cheeks he has kissed," Jenna informs Chris. "He'll be a germ cesspool for weeks." 

"As long as it was only the cheeks," Chris jokes. He really just means because to kiss on the mouth would spread germs faster, but Jenna's wicked smile implies she took it a different way. "When do we go on?" 

"Twenty minutes," Darren says. "Becca and Kevin are doing some kind of private charity lunch thing now." 

"And we're starving," Jenna says, already digging through the takeaway bags Chris hadn't even noticed piled up on a table. She finds a salad that looks to her liking and starts to eat before she even sits down. 

"You hungry?" Darren asks, following her example, though he goes for a burger. 

Chris shakes his head. He's sure he won't have an appetite until this is over. "So it's a lot of people." 

"Calm down," Darren orders him. "I mean, it is, but we'll be on a stage, they'll be in the audience, it's cool. And you don't have to come out right away." 

"No, I think I will," Chris says. 

Darren gives him a surprised look. "Really?"

"If I'm doing this, I might as well give people an entire hour, right?" Chris has also spent his morning going back and forth on that. 

He doesn't often feel obligated toward his fans, but he also isn't oblivious to the fact that they are actually why he has a job. He's never really upset to meet someone on the street and give an autograph or take a picture... but if someone mentions the idea of it he mentally flinches. 

But now with the enthusiasm and love he'd seen online fresh in his mind, suddenly he finds himself wanting to do this and not hold back. 

"If you're sure," Darren says, grinning. 

"And..." Chris takes a breath. "You should tweet a picture of us, right now, backstage." 

Darren laughs. "Seriously? That'd be pretty hilarious, but only if you're sure?" 

"I'm sure." Chris smiles and scoots in closer to Darren. Darren settles an arm over his shoulder and leans in so they can smile for the photo. 

Chris doesn't even pay attention to the caption, but he can tell the moment that the tweet goes live because suddenly there's a deafening roar of screams one room over. 

Darren laughs. "Yep. There it is." 

"Oh my god." Jenna laughs. "Chris, you're gonna put us to shame." 

"It's cool, we don't mind," Darren reassures him, patting him on the leg. "These guys see our stupid faces like six times a year." 

"Oh yes, and we get asked about you every time," Jenna says. "You're always the one that got away for them." 

"Okay, okay." Chris holds up a hand to stop them. "Enough of this." 

"Fine." Darren kisses his cheek, then blessedly changes the subject until it's time to go out. 

* 

There is no moderator, since Darren said he always prefers to hold the mic and interact with people himself, so once the woman in charge is finished introducing Darren she leaves. 

Darren turns to the crowd with a shit eating grin. "So, you guys been on twitter?" He pauses for the screaming. "I thought so. You guys seem like a digitally savvy kind of crowd. So I guess it's not too much of a surprise to you then, when I say that I brought a friend..." 

There's another prolonged and loud response. 

"But hey, hey, guys, hold on, he's kinda shy! Let's not overwhelm him, okay? He's kind of a sly guy, he'll slip out the back door sometimes without anyone even noticing." It's a reference to Chris's character in the show, notorious for being super sneaky. It works; everyone goes completely quiet. "Okay, go ahead and lose your shit for Shadow Grove's favorite g-man, Chris Colfer!" 

As soon as Chris steps out in front of the actual crowd, he can tap that place down inside himself that just instinctively knows how to do this. He can work the people with a detached ease that somehow never manages to actually ease the anxiety that he feels before. 

He smiles and waves and gives Darren a hug and a kiss on the cheek, something they'd already discussed but Chris hadn't entirely committed to. The sound in the room just gets louder and louder, though they quiet. 

"Hi, everyone." Chris waves and laughs at the way they all wave back. "I'm new to this, okay? Go easy on me." 

"Don't worry, Chris, I'll show you the ropes." Darren grins and their eyes meet and a few dozen camera flashes go off at once. Darren looks back out at the audience. So, I know you guys have a lot to ask, so I think we are just gonna jump right into the questions." 

The first few questions are softballs. A woman wants to know how they're liking the area. A little boy asks how hard is it to run from space aliens while you've been shot. One girl doesn't even have a question, just thanks him for coming as she cries. 

The fourth girl looks nervously between Chris and Darren and says, "I just really think it's awesome that Bay and Aiden found each other, and can you tell us if the movie will show their relationship progressing?" 

"Um. Progress." Chris looks at Darren. "I think that's what you call what they do, right?" 

Darren smirks. They can't give anything away, but they can hint. "I mean, it's not the first word that comes to my mind, but I guess that fits too." 

Chris turns to face the girl. "So, yes, I think the answer is yes." 

Darren actually gets one question just to himself, and then Chris is asked about his books. Normally this kind of question would thrill him but right now it just reminds him of his issues with his publisher. Still, loves that someone cares, and he rambles on maybe longer than he intends about his newer series. 

Half an hour goes by in a flash and the line is still weaving around the room. Chris is glad they provided bottles of water, but there's one moment where he reaches for the wrong one and they have a laugh over Chris drinking from Darren's. 

"Well, not the first time we've swapped spit," Darren laughs. 

Chris doesn't forget about the crowd, it's just easier to talk without over-thinking it right now when he's bantering with Darren. That's why he says, "Not even this week." 

There's a collective gasp. 

Chris covers his mouth. "Whoops, I didn't say that." 

"Oh, but they don't know if that was on camera or off..." Darren winks at them. 

Once the audience calms down over that one, they go back to answering questions. One about the show, one tearful bid for the show to stay on air and question about if they support fan campaigns (they both say yes but that sponsors have more say in it than studio heads, and money talks) one more asking about the location filming the week before that fans were at. 

"Well, Chris and I weren't actually there, so maybe that's a better one for Kevin and Jenna when they're on stage," Darren says. "And damn, we're getting the five minute sign. But it's cool, you guys, I have it on pretty good authority that you were all so awesome that Chris might come back tomorrow for the big panel with all of us."

A little girl is up next and asks Chris, "Will you be signing autographs or taking pictures?" 

Chris bites his lip. "I wasn't planning on it, but tell you what. If the kind people running this are willing to put something together, I might have an hour or two tomorrow." 

Darren gives him a genuinely surprised look. He's smart enough not to question Chris on stage, but Chris can tell he wants to ask. 

Chris does realize he might regret this later, but looking right at his fans suddenly he does get what can be so addicting about this. He'd always kind of assumed his co-stars were so agreeable just because they could make some easy money and because it was an ego boost, but it's more than that. It's a lot of people here because not only do they genuinely love (what they know of) him, but they also love the show and what the show means to them. 

There's a good chance that he may never do this again, so why not? 

*

"So, you made it." Darren grins at him. 

"I made it through day one," Chris says, rolling his eyes. "And I'm exhausted. How am I going to handle tomorrow?"

"It flies once you're at the table with people coming through," Darren says. "Seriously, you feel like you get no time with the actual people, which sucks. The line looks crazy long and then poof you're done, no big deal." 

"Uh huh. And you're cradling your wrist, why?" 

Darren laughs. "Okay, fine. Hurts like fuck to sign that much shit but I did three hours, you're only doing one." 

The second day of the con was already set up to be more full than the first, with a large two hour full cast and creator panel and photo ops with various groups. Chris still opted out of the photos, but that wouldn't have been an option for him anyway; the con couldn't figure out how to add in those last minute ticket sales... and heaven knows nothing was happening unless the company could profit from it. He'll get his cut, of course, Alla worked those details out in a contingency plan a month before, but he never bothered really looking at it. 

Chris waits until Darren's in the shower before he opens his laptop and actually dares check his social media. He doesn't even get that far; Alla's had his assistant send him a run down of media coverage. 

His stomach drops. He tells himself it's not really a bad thing, that there's no reason to dread it, but there are so many pictures of him and Darren - so many photos of them staring at each other, so happy, so open. One captions it "Colfer and Criss manage to have a private moment in front of hundreds" and even Chris can see the truth in it. 

No one will doubt they're together now. So what happens if this doesn't work and they end up breaking up? He'll get the shitty end of a public breakup before he even really got the chance to enjoy what comes before. 

*

*

The second day of the con goes well. 

There's less focus on just him at the group panel, and so many people answering each question that they only make it through maybe a dozen before time's up. 

They do get the inevitable question about whether or not the show will be renewed or not. Chris allows himself a moment of genuine apprehension as the executive producer of the show answers, a long circular sort of response that gives viewers hope in reminding them that their show airs mid-season anyway, that it's just important for everyone to watch the movie and make sure all their friends do, and that they likely won't have an answer for sure until fall. 

It's not what anyone wants to hear. Darren, who is sitting beside Chris, knocks their knees together. Chris has been more reserved today after seeing how the internet read into absolutely every moment the day before, but he does look over at Darren and share a smile with him. 

After the panel is Chris's autograph session. He settles into a chair behind a table, Darren just down from him. Darren's right - it does fly by once he actually gets started. He tries to say hi to everyone, to make eye contact, the basic rules of politeness he picked up from the promo events they did early on with the show. Most of the photos he's signing are either the large group cast shot posters they're selling in the vendor area, or glossies of Aiden and Bayani from their last good promo shoot. 

"Are you doing more photos together?" One girl asks. 

Darren, who has been keeping Chris entertained off and on, looks over at Chris and grins. "What do you think, babe?" 

"In your dreams," Chris shoots back. 

"Oh, you know it." Darren laughs and takes his next photo to sign. The fan who had been in front of them looks shell-shocked and scurries away to a group of people waiting. Chris can distantly hear their shocked gasps and then screams as the story is retold. Darren leans over to him and whispers, "That'll be a fun game of telephone." 

Chris laughs and whispers back, lips brushing Darren's ear. "She's probably telling them you offered to blow me under the table." 

Darren smirks. "I could..." 

"Behave," Chris orders, then looks at the next fan in front of him. 

He's shocked by how many people have gifts and letters for him but each one does make him smile. He vows he'll actually look at them later, hoping his good intentions won't go astray. 

But he's not sad when it's over and he slips into the car with Darren. "You do that every other month?" Chris asks, shaking his head slightly. "I could never." 

"Are you kidding me?" Darren asks, leaning over to kiss him. "You rocked that." 

Chris rolls his eyes. "Just get us home so I can rock you." 

Darren laughs. "Yes, sir." 

*

It probably says something that Chris has been living with Darren for six weeks and he's already more comfortable with this cohabitation than he had been with his last boyfriend. Chris just isn't sure it's a thing he wants to hear yet. 

His last boyfriend... that guy hadn't even actually lived with Chris. The relationship managed to hit that stage of sleeping over a couple of nights a week and Chris immediately felt cloyed by the closeness. 

But now Chris can walk into the bathroom he shares with Darren and look at the toothbrush beside his, the shave kit that he's not even sure why Darren owns, the shampoo, his soap. Chris can breathe in and smell a mixture of them, particularly in those moments when he's stealing into the bathroom just after Darren.... or when they share a shower. 

It's actually not something Chris has done before Darren, but after a long exhausting day of filming they're been bickering over who got to go first and Darren - like he always does - pulls the rug out from under Chris with one impish suggestion. "We could just conserve some water." 

Chris really expects to be embarrassed about washing in front of someone. It's not a form of intimacy he's ever been drawn to. The idea of someone else watching him scrub his ass... no. The idea of shower sex and all the potential for bone-breaking it held was equally unappealing. 

But with Darren, there's not much he hasn't seen anyway through wardrobe changes and at that point - half past one with an eight am call the next morning - Chris is actually just more concerned with wiping the sweat and dirt off of his body than modesty. 

It's not overtly sexual. They don't even kiss or touch as they undress, just go about it methodically as they would by themselves. Darren starts the water and Chris checks it, stepping under first. Darren bumps into Chris as he joins him and that sets off a snicker that turns into a giggle that turns out infectious, passing to Darren. 

From that point on, it's nothing but fun. They bicker for the soap and when Darren wins he makes Chris turn around facing away from Darren so Darren can wash him. It turns into an impromptu massage and in the midst of it Chris is struck again by how much he could get used to this, how much he already is. 

Normally that thought terrifies him but so late at night with Darren's hands soothing over him and Darren's warm, low, tired voice in his ear, it isn't that scary. Instead, it makes him lean back against Darren, wanting more. 

"What?" Darren laughs, but he wraps his arms around Chris. Their skin slips together from the soap still on Chris, but Chris turns and kisses Darren. 

"Nothing," Chris says. "I just like this." 

"I like you," Darren whispers back. 

"I like you." 

As soon as Chris says it, Darren's grip on him tightens. "I like hearing that. Sometimes I wonder." 

"Don't..." Chris knows it's the late hour and this weird mood suddenly over him, but he doesn't want to stop talking. "Don't wonder. It's just weird in my brain sometimes." 

"Well, that I knew." Darren's hands slip down to Chris's ass and cup it, fingers digging slightly between. "It's cool. I'm willing to read between the lines." 

Chris smiles, then pulls back and faces away again. "Good. Now finish washing me so we can get some sleep." 

*

They make it until the week before filming ends before having their first real fight - if it even counts as a fight. It comes on the heels of many things: Chris's growing upset with the fact that in a week this is over, Darren's seeming lack of concern, and some things that don't have anything to do with Darren or them at all. 

He's having more issues with his publisher, who remains is frustratingly stubborn. Chris gets an email from Alla telling him that the publishing company is upping the offer to buy out the rest of Chris's contract. His literary agent and editor and Alla and probably half a dozen other people Chris has never met are fighting this battle for him, and Chris understands that they're the ones that know how to do this... but he's never been good at taking a backseat on anything, especially not when it relates so directly to his career. 

The email puts him in a surly mood and Darren has the misfortune of walking in at just the wrong moment, too bright and too happy to not rub Chris the wrong way. 

"Aw, cheer up, grumpy." Darren leans over to kiss him, surprised when Chris jerks away. "Or... don't." 

"Sorry," Chris mutters, not really even looking at Darren. He types a line of response to Alla and then immediately deletes it. 

"So, dinner?" Darren asks. "Kev and a couple of the camera guys were going out to dinner. I think they were getting pizza." 

"You should have gone with them," Chris says. "I don't feel like cooking."

"No, but I do." Darren is clearly pleased with himself and something in Chris that's dark and swirling just wants him to stop fucking smiling. 

"Well, I'm not hungry." 

Darren rares back again, his expression dim for longer, but then he seems to make the decision not to let Chris's short tone get him down. "Cool, I'll just cook and have you enjoy the plethora of leftovers." 

"Fine." Chris goes back to his email. "Do whatever you want." 

Darren manages to leave him alone for about two minutes before he starts to talk again. "So, they're planning a huge wrap bash for us, did you get that text?" 

"No." Chris then has to fight that immediate stab of paranoia at why he hadn't, combined with the knot in his stomach he gets every time he thinks of leaving. He has no particular attachment to New Mexico except that it's given him something he didn't think he could have with someone he cares more about than he wants to admit and he's afraid he can't take that with him. "I'll probably skip it." 

"Why?" Darren asks. "It'll be fun, and you know, photo ops." 

"This is almost over anyway, why do we need the photos?" 

"Who says it's almost over?" 

"This was for the summer, right?" Chris looks up. 

"I mean, the publicity angle, but not - us. Right?" Darren asks him back. 

Chris shrugs. "I thought we were just seeing how it went." 

"And I thought-" Darren stops, and shakes his head. "Are you dumping me? Is that what's going on right now?"

"What? No, I..." Chris is shaken out of his funk by a sudden and real sense of alarm. "No." 

"Okay, something's going on here, and I don't even know what." 

"Well, neither do I," Chris says. He still has that sinking sensation of knowing he's made a mistake but being unable to admit or fix it. 

"Stop - just. Okay, listen. Why don't we just start over with tonight. You're gonna pretend like I just walked in the door, and I'm gonna look at you and say hey, Chris, how'd your afternoon go? And then you're gonna give me an honest answer instead of biting my head off and we’re not gonna let this snowball into something bad." 

Chris takes a measured breath and then nods. "Okay." 

"So. Chris." Darren smiles, just a tiny smile. "How did your day go?" 

"... badly," Chris says. 

"And how can I make it better?" Darren asks. "Keep in mind that 'just give me some alone time to work out my feels' is totally a valid response." 

"Just... give me some alone time," Chris says. "And... come get me when dinner's ready." 

Darren grins. "That I can do." 

Chris grabs his computer and decides to go into his bedroom, giving himself some time free of distraction to reply to the email he's been stressing over. He only realizes later, when he stops to think about it, what a gift Darren actually has in the way of calming people down and avoiding confrontation. 

When Darren knocks on his door half an hour later, Chris feels both better... and hungry, much to Darren's delight. 

*

Chris wakes up around two am that night, fresh from a nightmare. The actual dream itself begins to evaporate in his mind almost as soon as he realizes he’s no longer asleep, but it leaves him shaking and terrified. 

This is not a new experience. He’s still not taking his normal sleeping pills. If he was nervous about them making him behave oddly while just sharing an apartment with Darren, there’s no way he’s going to now that they’re sharing a bed. 

He knows he won’t be getting back to sleep for a while, so he sits up. He means to get out of bed but he gets distracted by the sight of Darren still fast asleep beside him. He’s drooling slightly on his pillow, a faint sheen of sweat across his bare shoulders. The heat is inescapable here even with the air conditioning running and Darren is like a compact furnace in bed. 

He’s also probably the only person Chris knows that can pull off mussed and sweaty with bedhead in the morning and still look good. The thought makes him smile just a little, his anxious heart calming with something to distract himself from dream-memory. 

Darren must feel that he’s being watched, because he suddenly stirs and his eyes blink open. “What’s going on?” He mumbles. 

“Can’t sleep,” Chris says, and starts to move away. “I’ll go in there where I won’t disturb you.” 

“You’re not.” Darren rubs his face against the pillow and then yawns widely. “Hey come on, lay back down.” 

“But you were sleeping.” 

“And you’re not. Now, come on. I’ll tell you a bedtime story.” Darren’s arm closes around his waist, pulling Chris against him. 

“Are you spooning me?” Chris asks, amused disbelief in his voice. 

Outside of those moments sex, they haven’t actually just… cuddled much. It’s not something that comes natural to Chris and even if it did, the nights really are too warm for it. 

Darren seems to consider this an exception, though. “Fuck yeah I am. Now, story?” 

“Um…” Chris tries to settle into being held this way. “Sure, why not.” 

He has no idea what to expect. 

“So this one time, I was like, late twenties? Maybe thirty? Shit, I’m getting old, I don’t remember. This one time, one of my college buddies calls me up…” Darren starts to tell Chris a story about a drunken night that ended in an impromptu drag show and almost getting arrested for public lewdness. It’s a ridiculous story and Chris is sure that at least half of it is made up on the spot but Darren’s voice is deep and close and words vibrate through his chest where it’s plastered against Chris’s back. 

The next morning he wakes up not remembering how the story ended, but feeling rested. 

*

The wrap party takes place at a rented out club. The catered food is decent, the live bad isn’t bad, and there’s plenty of alcohol to go around. There are no fans and because they’re still on location so far away from the actual studio, few of the stuffy industry types they all feel like they have to behave around and impress. 

So Chris has fun. He lets Darren ply him with a couple too many drinks, though neither of them actually get drunk. They dance, they pile into a tiny photobooth with too many other people, they just… enjoy themselves. 

As they're leaving the party, Jenna says to Darren, "So you'll be at Dewdrop's birthday party next week, right?" 

"Wouldn't miss it," Darren says. "Text me the details." 

"Chris, are you coming?" Jenna asks. 

"Where is it?" Chris asks. He's really just asking about the venue, curious if it’s a place around Vancouver he’s familiar with. 

"Our LA house - she really wanted a pool party, and the weather is perfect. They've already been there since school let out, since it was closer to visit me here than in Canada." Jenna's family relocated with her completely when the show started. They even worked her last pregnancy into the storyline, showing her being a single working mother (with an alien-chasing double life). "I'm kind of jealous. It's been ages since I've gotten to spend more than a week or two there. I miss the SoCal weather. 

"Oh, I'm - I don't think I can, then." Chris wishes he hadn't asked. "I'm going back to Vancouver. I... I didn't. You're going back to LA?" 

Chris feels like cold water has just been dumped on him. 

"Yeah. Just for a little while," Darren says. "Got a few meetings, and a date with my favorite girl. Who else is gonna buy the birthday girl her first drum set?" 

The last line is directed at Jenna, though she's looking back and forth between Chris and Darren. She doesn't bring up the sudden tension but she does excuse herself with an, "Oh, I want to go say goodbye to Jerry." 

Darren looks at Chris in that way he does, when he's trying to figure out what Chris is thinking. 

"Can we go?" Chris asks. 

Darren just nods. 

* 

They've only got the night left. Chris knew all along that this was going to be a conversation they needed to have, but he'd almost been hoping they could just put it off indefinitely. 

But he also hadn't known they were getting on planes to two different places tomorrow. He hadn't known because he hadn't asked, even though it's crossed his mind a few times. 

For as much as he has that need to prepare for the future, he hadn't wanted to face this one. He sits on the edge of the bed. He can tell Darren knows something is coming, because Darren stays standing. "I think we should end this." 

"No," Darren says, voice firm and head shaking. He takes a step forward. "Come on, don't-" 

Chris's heart is pounding even as he says it. "I don't want to keep this going, not knowing what will happen in a few months. Even if the show gets renewed, we won't film for another three months. And you've already got plans for those months, don't you?" 

"Chris..." Darren's voice has a desperate tinge to it. "Even if we knew for one hundred percent that we'd both be in Vancouver-" 

"But you know you won't." Chris looks up at Darren. "You have known all summer that you weren't going back and I was, and you didn't say anything." 

"I knew you'd freak out and say this was over," Darren admits, voice quiet. "I knew you were already on the fence and I guess I figured I could convince you that long distance wasn't so bad, or that you could - I don't know - you could come-" 

"Come with you?" Chris shakes his head. "You really don't get me, do you." 

"I do." Darren's voice sounds scratchy now, like he's holding it all in. "Way more now than I did a year ago. But I can't just - it's my fucking career, it's not like I'm just lining up parties to go to. I'm... I have meetings. About an album." 

Chris's head shoots up. "Really?" 

"Yeah." Darren gives him a weak smile. "I mean, you kind of inspired that. I called my manager and had him set some stuff up. But fuck, that was before we were - you know - us. And I wouldn't have, if I'd known doing that meant you were done with me." 

"So what did you think? You are just fine with us being in different places for months? I mean, do you really think you wouldn't get bored and-" 

"And fuck around?" Darren's eyebrows leap up. "You seriously think I would?" 

"You're the one that said you'd be such a bad boyfriend." 

"Yeah, I meant like - like years ago-" 

"You broke up with Mia as soon as you weren't in the same place as her." The more Chris talks the more heated his voice is. He's convincing himself of why he's right, and it's working. "You would never actually make it in a relationship." 

"Well, shit." Darren sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "Guess you've made up your mind." 

He walks out of Chris's bedroom and shuts the door behind him.

*

Chris gets no sleep that night. 

He’s still awake the next morning when he hears Darren get up. 

He listens to the shower turn on and off. 

He listens to what must be a phone call, though Darren’s words are muffled through the wall. 

He listens and his eyes burn and his throat hurts and everything inside of him is shouting a different impulse. 

There’s a light knock at the door and Darren says, “Chris?” 

But Chris doesn’t say anything. He wants to, he wants to speak, to shout - but he just can’t. No words come. 

He hears Darren sigh and the footsteps walk away. 

Darren’s walking away. Darren’s giving up. 

Chris bolts upright, feet on the floor, ready to go to Darren. He's still not sure what to say, but it feels so awful to just leave it like this. He can’t. He can’t let Darren _leave_. 

He hears the front door shut and realizes that it's too late.

He could still try. He could chase Darren. He could actually shout. But the sound of that door slamming closed rings in his ears, and he’s stunned into stillness by his own internal demons until well past the point where it would do any good.


	8. Chapter 8

Darren is everywhere Chris turns. He’s inescapable. Every time a fan sees him at the airport or out in town, every time he checks social media... there’s Darren.

Sometimes, usually in the twilight hours of morning, he looks Darren up himself. During the day, he doesn’t even have to try. As part of her job, Chris's assistant sends him up to date media coverage on Chris and his career. He likes to know what's going on, even the things that Alla might not think it important enough to tell him. 

His assistant doesn't know enough to shield Chris from the stuff about Darren. She's not in the loop; hardly anyone is. Their management, Becca, and whoever Darren trusted enough to tell. 

So when Darren mentions him or there's a write up on the two of them, Chris gets it delivered straight to his inbox with with little emoticons. His assistant apparently thinks they’re cute together. 

His masochistic side makes him open every single link. He almost throws up the first time he realizes that Darren is keeping up the act of them. It's only two days after filming on the movie finished, and a paparazzi photographer catches Darren at JFK. The photographer asks Darren why he's alone, why Colfer isn't with him. 

"Hey, we're not attached at the hip, man," Darren says. 

"But everything's okay there?" The photographer asks. 

To an outsider, Darren's expression doesn't change. But Chris can tell it's an act because of that. Darren's too expressive, too quick with what he's feeling when it's real. "Life is good," Darren says. "Life is really good right now." 

Chris has to tell himself Darren doesn't mean that. He has to tell himself that Darren feels at least half as bad as Chris does right now. 

*

Becca comes to see him the second week he's back in Vancouver. She can tell right away that he hasn't left his apartment in a week when he texts her to tell her pick up cat food on her way. 

She does (even though she has an epic grudge match against his cat) but she berates him for it. 

"I know, I know," Chris says, sighing. At least he put on clothes for this. She'd really tear into him if she knew that he hadn't done that much since the end of the previous week. "It's stupid to feel this way over something that barely lasted a month." 

"You really think that?" Becca asks. "Because let me tell you: you are wrong." 

"I'm pretty sure I know how long we were together," Chris says. 

"Yeah, but that's not what you're upset over. You're probably doing something that you should have done three years ago if you really meant to get over him the first time. But you didn't. You just moved out of that house and pretended that you were just fine and nothing actually bothered you. You're not mourning four weeks, you're mourning four years." 

Chris draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, pressing his face down into them. "I hate that he makes me feel this way." 

Becca puts her arm around him and leans her head against his. "Congrats, kid. That's what being in love feels like." 

*

And she's right, it just takes Chris a long time to really process and accept it. 

It's really never been like this before. He's been upset over relationships ending. He's loved people and missed them when they were gone. 

But this is what being in love feels like. This is what being hurt by love feels like. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid, isn’t it? There's never been anyone in his life that he felt an absence of so keenly. He's never felt this clawing caving gaping pressure inside of him when he thinks about what he did. 

He's never replayed the same conversation over so many times in his head wishing he could have it over again to do differently. He practically writes the script out in his head, torturing himself, what he wishes he'd say, what he wants Darren to have said. 

Alla calls him on a Thursday. "Have you looked at the new scripts I sent over?" 

"No," Chris says. 

"Will you?" 

He sighs. There's a stack by the door, one that grows a little taller every day that his assistant comes by. "I just - none of them are really want I want." 

"How do you know if you haven't even looked at them?" She's annoyed, clearly. "You have nothing lined up excepted your next book, and are you ready for that deadline?"

"Is there any point in trying to be?" Chris asks. The publication date has been pushed back twice while contract negotiations are still going on. 

"Christopher." Alla's voice goes firm. "You are a lovely man and I enjoy working with you very much, but I cannot manage someone without a career." 

"Then maybe," Chris struggles to say, the words choking the breath out of him, "maybe I'm not who you need to be managing." 

"Chris." Her voice softens, only slightly. "I will do you the kindness of hanging up now and pretending this call did not happen. But I'm calling you back at the end of the week, and you need to have worked through whatever is going on with you right now - or we will be having this conversation in a very real way." 

She hangs up on him. 

* 

It's his sister that really brings it home for him. He's been back in Vancouver for thirteen days and it's the first time he's spoken with her. 

Hannah lets him get away with small talk for about two minutes before she starts to read him the riot act. 

"Darren misses you," she says. "And also you're dumb. Like, my whole life I thought you were smart, but now I get it. You're way, way dumb." 

"You talked to Darren?" Chris asks, every bit of composure he thought he'd managed suddenly dissipated into nothingness. 

"Of course. I mean, someone had to keep me in the loop with your little soap opera." She's annoyed he didn't confide in her but Chris will feel guilty later. Right now he's focused on nothing but the fact that she's been talking to Darren. "He's worried about you, though. I mean we didn't really talk about you to begin with but when I mentioned I hadn't heard from you, he got really upset. He said you're probably locked in your bedroom waiting for something you're too scared to ask for."

"He said that?" Chris isn’t sure if he’s happy at the idea, or angry. 

"No, actually, I said that, sorry. I thought maybe you'd accept it if I said that he did." Hannah backtracks. "Come on. Was it really that bad? You can't just tell him you're sorry?" 

"How do you know it was me that did something?" Chris asks. 

"Because if Darren dumped you, he wouldn't still be calling your sister every other day in hopes that she mentions you..." She points out. 

"You said you didn't talk about me to begin with." 

"Yeah, because he wasn't going to be rude and just ask." Hannah laughs. "Which was sweet. But I knew right away why he kept calling back." 

"And I'm sure he knew you were playing him for information." Chris rolls his eyes slightly. 

"Yeah, but I'm cute, so it's okay." Hannah's soft giggle warms something inside Chris just a little, that spot of pure affection that means he can’t ever really stay mad at her - even when he wants to be, even when he’d be furious at anyone else that pulled this. "But seriously, Bubba, will you talk to him? As a favor to me?" 

"Oh god, you can't pull the favor card." Chris groans. 

"Well, really it's a favor to yourself, but you never want to do anything nice for yourself," Hannah says. "You act like you deserve to be unhappy, and I hate it. Everyone that loves you hates it." 

"Wow, you sound like my therapist." Chris laughs bitterly. 

"Please. If you had a therapist, I'm pretty sure they'd have kicked your ass to do this already," Hannah says. 

She's probably right. 

"So," she says. "I want you to talk to Darren." 

"Han..." Chris sighs. "That's not a good idea." 

"Yes, it is," Hannah says. "I think you miss him and I know he misses you, but it's not even that. It's just that you were happy this summer and I liked you being happy. That's the favor I want. I want you to do something that makes you happy. Because..."

Her voice wavers. 

"Han?" 

"Because you know any day this medicine could stop working for me. I don't get any guarantees in life. I mean, no one does, but not many people have faced it as many times as I have. I want to see you happy while I'm actually still here to see it." 

"There's not-" Chris feelings a sickening sense of dread. "Is there something - wrong?" 

"No, no, I'm fine right now, don't worry." She quickly says, laughing a little. 

“So then why are you talking about having no guarantees in life?” Everything going on with Darren became secondary at the stark perspective her words brought. “You terrified me.” 

"Because it would be a waste of a neurological disorder if I didn't use it to emotionally manipulate you into things,” Hannah says. “So will you talk to him?"

"Even if I wanted to, I said some awful things to him last time we talked,” Chris admits, remembering his accusations. 

“You do that, though,” Hannah says. “I bet Darren knows you do just get mean when you’re really scared.”

“Ouch,” he says. 

“Come on. I know you, Bubba. And I think he does too,.” 

Chris doesn’t even know what to say. He doesn’t have as much faith in Darren’s forgiveness as Hannah does, obviously. “What if I just promise to think about it?" 

"As long as you _really_ promise to think about it,” Hannah says. 

"I really, really will." 

"Pinky swear?" 

"Pinky swear." 

"Okay. Now I have to go stare into some sunshine to rid myself of the bleakness that just leaked from you over the phone lines onto me." Hannah laughs, as bright and happy as she always is, and hangs up the phone with a sweet, "Love you. And really think about it!" 

*

Chris stands at the airport twelve hours later with a flimsy boarding pass clutched between sweaty fingers and a hastily packed overnight back cling over his shoulder. People pass around him, some giving him strange looks, most laughing and talking with their companions or just too lost in their own minds and busy schedules to notice. 

Hannah's words had burrowed in his mind and sleep wouldn't come. By three in the morning insomnia settled in so fiercely that he hardly remembers buying the ticket, but - here he is. 

He's heading to New York and he doesn't even know if Darren will still actually be there. He's left a message with Alla to find out where Darren is and he's sure he'll be in for the grilling of his lifetime but that can wait until later. 

Everything can wait until later. He only has enough in him to focus on just this, right now. 

* 

There are a string of text messages waiting when his phone gets service again after stepping off of his flight. The first few are questions, the exact kind he'd expected, and he swipes his finger down the screen to skim past them until he sees an address. 

The only text message after the address reads: "Be safe and make good choices." 

It's such a very Alla thing to say that he has to fight against a momentary wave of emotion. He almost taps his finger over her name, almost calls her just to hear her voice and get her advice - but right now the idea scares him too much. Hannah's words only barely just infused enough hope in him to allow him to be able to do this. Any hint of a suggestion in another direction, of a different outcome, and his resolve will crumble. 

* 

He makes it to the hotel and has to do something he hasn't done in a very long time: stand at the front desk and wait. 

They won't just give him Darren's room number, and Alla hadn't been able to get that so quickly overnight. They won't even confirm that it actually is Darren's room, but they do agree to call up to the room for him and see if whoever is in it will allow the information to be given out. 

There's no response. Chris asks them to try again, and waits. 

After the third call, the front desk clerk politely says to him, "I'm sorry, but it seems he isn't available." 

"Thank you," Chris says, his entire body on autopilot. He walks over to a chair in the lobby and sits. He can see the front entrance from here but he's not sure if Darren would actually be using it. 

* 

Chris sits in the lobby for so long that an employee politely comes over and informs him that the lobby is for guests and friends of guests. They don't outright ask him to leave but the implication is clear. 

He books a room for the night, then goes back to sitting. 

* 

He's actually managed to fall half asleep when his phone jumps to life in his hand. 

It's an email from Darren. 

Underneath is a link to a website. Chris opens it on his phone browser and sees the website for a small club. 

And apparently, Darren is playing at this club tonight. 

* 

Darren's show doesn't start for another four hours. Chris feels his body on the shaky edge of breakdown so he actually goes up to the hotel room that he's paid for. He raids the mini bar for something to drink and then lays down on the bed, managing almost two hours of sleep before he wakes up in a shock of panic and disorientation. 

A look in the mirror almost shocks him. He needs to shave and he needs a shower, desperately. He has to call down to the front desk to ask for a razor and even as he scrapes the stubble from his face he wonders why he's even bothering, why he's even doing this. He goes through every awful way this could end in his mind but he's so close to the moment that it doesn't discourage him. If anything, he looks forward to being able to walk away from this knowing that he's tried. 

He only has one change of clothes with him, but he won't face Darren in what he's been wearing for almost twenty four hours now so he gets dressed and calls for a cab to take him to the club. 

*

Chris slips in unnoticed and sits in the back. There’s a decent crowd so he orders a drink and nurses it while hoping he can get away with not being seen. 

His hope is dashed barely ten minutes in when he hears the first gasp and then sees a few phones subtly pointed at him. Of course the show is filled with fans of Darren, of _course_ they know exactly who to look for and probably came in thinking they'd see him. 

Chris almost bolts. He's wondering if he can make it to the door without anyone seeing him when Darren comes out, and after that moment nothing on the entire earth could make him move. 

There's no opening act, no introductions. Darren just takes a seat on a stool on a stage with his guitar cradled in his arms and starts to sing. It's an original song so no one sings along, all just caught up together in the soft, almost haunted melody. 

Darren finishes it and goes straight into something more upbeat. When that one's over he finally stops to talk to the audience. 

"So man, you guys are the privileged few, huh? And by privileged I mean not at all, because this whole thing is a total experiment, you know, so you can't be too hard on me. I used to do this a lot back in college, but it's been a while, I'm rusty." 

"You're amazing," someone in the crowd shouts out. 

Darren just laughs. "I paid her to say that. Thanks, hon, your check's in the mail." 

Chris smiles just a little. 

"Okay, I'm gonna be like, the biggest fucking cliche right now, but this next one's for someone special-" 

"Chris!" A different girl all but shrieks. 

Oh, no. 

Chris steels himself, because he knows-

He can't even finish the thought before someone else is shouting up at Darren, "He's here!" 

Darren looks shocked. "What?" 

Everyone turns to look at him. Chris raises a hand and waves weakly. What else can he really do? 

"Wow. Wow, okay, then." Darren looks back down at his guitar, clearly completely flustered now. "Someone's a sneaky asshole." 

Everyone laughs... even Chris, though he's not sure how funny he'll find it later if Darren actually turns out to be furious with him. 

"Okay, if you'll give me just a second-" Darren gently lays his guitar on the ground and then hops off of the stage, walking straight toward Chris. Chris stands, feeling like he's about to get on a roller coaster. He briefly and irrationally imagines Darren yelling and screaming at him, telling him to go. 

Instead Darren just throws his arms around Chris and hugs him, hard. Chris hugs back, lets it go on and on, turning his face in to Darren. He doesn't care if every fucking girl in the audience is recording this on their phone - and they are, they completely are - he isn't letting this go. 

"Hang around after," Darren whispers. "Please?" 

"Of course." Chris forces his fingers to loose on the back of Darren's shirt, forces his feet to take him back when Darren breaks the hug. 

He sits back down as Darren heads back to the stage. 

"Had to, you know, say hey to a friend." Darren grins. "All right, now lets get this fucking show on the road." 

*

 

Darren only does one set, warning people when he's at his last number. Chris leaves before he’s finished, not outside but backstage led by an employee of the club operating under Darren’s request. 

The room he’s given to wait in is small, a vanity with overly bright lights and a mini fridge and a threadbare couch. He recognizes Darren’s jacket slung over the back of the chair, a half-finished tumbler of whiskey leaving condensation rings on the table underneath it just to the side. 

He sits to wait. 

*

It's still another half hour before Darren makes it back to him. Chris is practically hyperventilating by the time the door flies open. 

"You're still here." Darren actually looks surprised. 

"I can... I can go?" Chris says. 

"Don't you fucking dare." Darren laughs, shutting the door behind him. "I just _knew_ as soon as I got back out here you'd be gone. I would have been sooner but I wanted to talk with the guys that came out to support me, sign a few things-" 

"Of course, it's fine," Chris says. "I just... I know it's weird, me just showing up here-" 

There's a knock on the door, the club manager wanting to talk to Darren. 

"Chris, I'll just be-" Darren gives him a frantically apologetic look. 

"Go on, it's fine," Chris says. He isn't sure if he's glad for the interruption or not. He’s had hours during the show, almost a day since he decided to fly here, weeks since he let Darren walk away… but somehow it’s this ten minute span in which he finally realizes what he needs to say and how he wants to say it. When Darren comes back, his voice has more certainty to it as he asks, "Can we have this conversation somewhere else?" 

"Yeah, I've got a hotel a few blocks over," Darren says. 

"I know." Chris isn't really thinking about how weird that'll sound until Darren gives him a surprised look. "I uh, rented a room there. I was looking for you." 

"Really? Is that... why you're here?" Darren is looking carefully down as he gathers his stuff, acting like it’s a casual question when it’s obvious to both of them that it isn’t. 

"Of course," Chris says. “Why else would I be here?”

"I mean, I didn't know." Darren shrugs, putting his guitar into its case and grabbing his jacket as he talks. "You could have been here on business." 

"No business," Chris quietly says. "Just you." 

Darren stares at him, then shakes himself out of his stupor and says, "Come on, there's a car waiting for us." 

* 

They go to Darren's room, and the second the door is shut Chris blurts out, "I'm sorry." 

"Okay. I forgive you." Darren says it so easily - it can't be that easy. 

"You don't even know what I'm apologizing for." 

Darren puts his guitar down against the wall and goes to the mini bar. "You want a drink?" 

"No," Chris says. He's not sure alcohol would mix well with this conversation, or his current mental state. 

Darren's hands still on the bottles he's considering. He turns back to Chris without making himself one, either. "So, I figure you're probably apologizing for dumping me, because we both know that's the only thing you really did that we would both recognize was stupid enough to warrant an apology." 

Chris doesn't say anything, because Darren's right. 

Darren looks at him. "So okay, I accept your apology. There's a lot of stuff that goes on in your head that I can’t even begin to _get_. It’s one of the things I find fascinating about you but it fucking sucks sometimes, too. I legitimately did not have a damn clue if you hated me or what, so it's really nice to know you don't. I appreciate that a lot. And if that's all you came here to get right between us, I'm not going to draw it out. I'll take what I get and figure out how to live with it. But if you did come here for something else, then... by all means, go on." 

"Yes, there is more. I want you to know that I'm sorry," Chris says again. "And I want you to know that I didn't mean it." 

"Is there a difference?” Darren asks. “Why are those two things?” 

Chris shrugs. "You can say the truth and still be sorry you did it." 

"But what you said wasn't true?" 

"It's a little more complicated than true or not," Chris says. "But I told you I didn't think we'd work, and that wasn't the whole truth, I guess." 

"So what was?" Darren asks, waiting patiently for an answer. 

"That the idea of being with you terrifies me," Chris says. He even manages to look Darren right in the eye while he says it. "You terrify me." 

"Right back atcha," Darren says. 

"But nothing works right without you anymore," Chris says. "I went back home thinking everything would be the same as it always was before, and I was right... but I wasn't happy with it anymore. I felt better, being around you. It's hard to come back from that." 

"It's still an option," Darren says. "I'm still here if you want me." 

"I want you." Chris steps forward. He almost holds a hand out but he decides it's too weird, too awkward, too much a physical representation of what he's doing emotionally. 

"To be with me?" Darren asks. 

"To be with you." 

"No time limits?” Darren looks warily at him, but all Chris hears is Darren not telling him no. “No pre-planning your jump off point? Because that hurt, man. Realizing you never even planned on being open to us working - that sucked. I’m downplaying it, you know, to save my masculine pride and all, but it sucked a lot. Chris."

And that, Chris realizes, is exactly what he’d done. He'd been so busy trying to think of how to avoid being hurt that he didn't even think that his insecurity in them, in himself, hurt Darren in exactly the ways he tried to avoid to himself. 

"I am an awful person," he says. 

Darren's expression changes in an instant. He grabs Chris's hands even without Chris offering them up. "No, you're not. You're just a little bit bad at relationships. But it's cool, you know. We'll practice. We'll get there." 

"Please?" Chris asks on a shaky exhale. "Please." 

Darren wraps him up in strong, warm arms. "All you had to do was ask." 

* 

"I want you," Chris whispers, urgent. He doesn’t know how much time they’ve lost just standing there kissing, letting it build into something bigger. “I want to feel you.” 

“Yeah, yeah baby.” Darren’s pupils are blown, his lips swollen so pink and wet. “Fuck me, come on-”

"No." Chris locks his fingers around Darren's neck, pressing his face to that sweaty spot where his lips can feel Darren's pulse just so. "I want you to fuck me." 

He feels Darren suck in a breath. In their time together, Darren only bottomed. It wasn't anything they spoke about outside of the first time they slept together. 

"Is this symbolic?" Darren asks, their lips still brushing. Neither of them want to put more space between their bodies than they have to. "You letting me in, and all that?" 

"Sure, why not?" Chris laughs and gives more pressure to the kiss, close-mouthed but a firm promise.

Flippancy aside, he realizes soon after that maybe Darren's right. Maybe this is about letting him in, because as Darren opens him up with fingers and a wicked tongue it feels like so much more than just sex. It feels like he's letting go of something - maybe it's control, maybe it's the fear, he doesn't know. But whatever it is takes some the weight pressing down on him with it when it goes. 

His grip goes tighter and he whispers a jagged, "Please," at Darren because yes, he wants Darren in, all the way in. He wants to chase this newfound freedom and see just how far it goes. 

Their clothes find a new home on the floor, a rush to be naked and pressing now, to touch and kiss. There's not as much talking now, just the quiet harsh breaths and sounds of sex. Darren has condoms and lube, and in that startlingly solitary moment when Darren leaves to get them Chris decides he won't question it - he'll just thank the stars for the modern practicality of this man. There are countless other ways they could have brought themselves together but there's something unifying about taking it all the way, as far as they can go together. 

Then Darren is back and Chris doesn't reign in his greed or his neediness. He clings in ways he never would have before, whispers things that would normally make him blush to say. Once the words start they don't stop, fragmented promises and lost fantasies and how he feels - oh, he tells Darren how he feels in so many ways and then he luxuriates in how it brings color to Darren's face and how Darren's kisses get more desperate and wet and how Darren just begs him not to stop talking. 

Once Darren is in him it goes quiet again though, all their focus back on what their bodies want. It's a solid blunt burn of penetration with the aching promise of more, the stretch tempered by Darren's voice whispering hot in his ear, "You're so fucking good, you feel so fucking good." 

Chris almost shatters just from the sound of it. He feels weakened at the same time it gives him an impossible kind of strength. He's never been so turned inside out by just being with someone, and he lets the steady beat of Darren against him, into him, carry him through until he's letting go and crying his pleasure loud with his cock pulsing between their bodies.

"I love you," he whispers frantically after, repeating it between off-center kisses as he feels Darren hit that breaking point, too. 

 

*

Darren drops back onto the bed, bouncing slightly on an overly firm mattress. Chris is loose-limbed and smiling, feeling like the weight of the world is off of him just for the moment. 

Darren turns and lays on his stomach, propping his chin against his balled up fist. "You came all the way to New York for me?" 

"Yes," Chris says, smiling. 

He feels ripped open and spread apart emotionally, and he'd never imagined it could be so freeing. 

"You know the internet's gonna be a shitstorm tomorrow, right? Hell, probably already is right now." Darren doesn't seem the least bit bothered. 

"Yeah," Chris says. "I know." 

"That okay?" Darren asks. 

Chris shrugs. "It might get annoying, but I guess if I'm going to be traveling to see you a lot more often they'll get bored eventually." 

"Wait, really? Mr. Homebody Colfer?" Darren grins, only trying slightly to temper his excitement. "You know you don't have to." 

"I don't think I want to be apart from you right now," Chris says, the burst of nervous what-if-he-doesn't-want-it energy surfacing with only the tiniest nudge required. 

But Darren stamps that out in a heartbeat. "I want you. Now, tomorrow, next week, next month. I want you by my side as much as you want to be there, and I want to be by yours until you get fucking sick of my face and tell me to go away." 

"I like your face," Chris says, fighting the stupid smile on his own. "I don't think I'll get tired of it." 

Darren sits up to straddle him and kiss him. "I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you." 

"I think I've been in love with you for years." Chris rests his hands on Darren's smooth, naked hips.

Darren kisses down his neck. Chris can feel his poor, exhausted, exhilarated body gearing up for another round, like a promise he's not really sure he can keep at this point. "I don't want to think about the past four years." He pulls away with a big-eyed expression that cuts right through Chris in wonderful ways. "I just want to think about the next four." 

Chris smiles and closes his arms around Darren. "I think I can do that." 

 

**Four Months Later**

Being with Darren hasn't made Chris a new man. Being with Chris hasn't transformed Darren, either. Nothing about this has been easy every step of the way, but it's also not nearly as hard as Chris thought it would be. The things that make them stumble are bumps in the road, not mountains. Darren's allergic to Chris's cat, but there's medicine he can take. Chris wakes Darren up at weird hours with his sleepwalking (when he finally realizes he needs to start taking the pills again), but eventually Darren realized he didn't always need to go check on Chris. 

Darren still relies too heavily on the charge he gets from being with people. Chris still relies too much on the quiet and comfort of being alone. They fight, sometimes. They bicker and they argue mostly but once in a while they mean it. They're still learning how to be with each other, but they're doing it with steps carefully measured together. 

*

They're having sex when they get the call. 

Darren's phone goes off first. He pops his mouth off of Chris's dick and pants, "Ignore it?" - to which Chris nods enthusiastically and uses the hands he has fisted in Darren's hair to guide Darren back to what he was doing before the interruption. 

Darren's phone stops ringing and almost immediately, Chris's starts. 

"Fuck." Chris sighs, dropping his head back against the pillow. "It must be important." 

Darren whines and rests his cheek against Chris's hip while Chris twists to grab his phone off the table. 

"Oh, it's Jenna... weird..." Chris says, before answering with a polite, "Hello?" 

He immediately has to hold the phone away from his ear. She screams, "We got renewed!" so loudly that Darren can hear it even though it's not set to speaker phone. 

"We got renewed," Chris repeats, unnecessarily. 

Darren crawls up the bed, straddling Chris's lap and grabbing the phone. "Fuck yeah, we got renewed!" 

"I have to call Kevin!" Jenna hangs up without saying anything else, leaving Chris and Darren both laughing. 

The blowjob goes by the wayside as they both start checking their email and, for Darren, a stream of missed texts. There's more to it than just a simple renewal, of course; there will be paperwork, and meetings, and schedules to iron out, but... 

Darren looks over at Chris, then cups the back of his neck and kisses him. "Hey. We got renewed." 

Chris grins back into the kiss. "We did." 

"You know what you're doing yet?" Darren asks. 

Chris has talked to him about the thought of not returning to the show. Darren's savvy enough at the business of acting to understand all of Chris's reasons why he wouldn't, and he hasn't tried to discredit any of them. 

But he's made it clear that he values working with Chris, and that he thinks now that they're together and the whole world knows (even if the whole world has the timeline a little bit backwards) they can do amazing things in these roles. 

He's also made it clear that even if Chris leaves the show, Darren doesn't plan on letting him go. 

"Not yet," Chris admits, though he does have an idea which way he's leaning. 

*

Once the ink has dried on all the primary cast, the network throws a party for them. "You know, I've gone to more parties since we started 'dating' than I think I did the entire four years before," Chris says. "You're such a wild influence on me." 

Darren's arm rests easily around Chris's waist. His other hand waves at the photographers lingering near the entrance snapping photos of the cast. Chris ignores them, but he doesn't hide. 

"Oh yeah," Darren responds. "One of these days I'll get up to stay up past midnight, too. Or maybe watch one of those dirty movies?" 

"Watch?" Chris purses his lips. "I thought you'd have gone with make." 

It's worth it for the way Darren's eyes go huge. "Wait, really-" 

"No." 

"But you-" 

"No." 

"Not even if-" 

"No." 

"... you are a goddamn cocktease." 

Chris smiles sweetly. "Yes." 

*

Becca spots them as soon as they walk in the door. 

"You're back!" Becca throws her arms around Chris. "How was - where did you go again?" 

"Greece," Chris says. 

They'd both been anxious waiting to hear about the show, knowing they couldn't exactly sign on to new projects until they had answers. 

When Darren suggested a getaway, Chris had initially balked... but once Darren started rattling off the amenities at the hotel he had in mind and setting Chris's phone screens and laptop background to the view, Chris had quickly given in. 

He quickly realized that vacationing with a significant other is a whole lot more rewarding than vacationing alone. They hadn't exactly made it around to see the sights, but Chris isn't sure he'll ever be able to think of Planos without fighting an erection. 

He's glad to be back, though. He hugs Becca tight and then steps back into Darren's space, right where he feels like he belongs. 

*

"So, what do you think?" Becca asks, later when it's just the two of them. Darren is across the room somewhere letting his social butterfly wings flutter merrily from person to person. "Are you signing the new contract?" 

It's a two-season commitment. Chris has thought hard about it, but in the end the decision wasn't nearly as difficult to make as it would have been six months ago. "I am." 

Becca bounces on her heels and hugs him again. "I'm so glad." 

The Shadow Grove film did well enough that not only was the studio almost certainly going to renew it, but that even if they hadn't a few online media platforms were ready to snatch it up. 

With the reassurance that Chris would remain on television for the next two years, his publisher dropped the efforts at killing his book deal. His next book, which has sat finished for a month now, is set to come out just after Thanksgiving with a three-week book tour. 

Darren's already talking about coming along for some of them, but he's in the early stages of setting up his own production company so Chris is sure there will be weeks apart for them. That's all right; the tour ends in Los Angeles, just in time for Chris to undergo the staggeringly significant process of meeting his boyfriend's parents for the first time. (Of course he's met them before, but it feels different now, no matter how much Darren laughs at him for thinking so.) 

Across the room Darren catches his eye with a smile meant just for him. They haven't told anyone yet, but once they get back to Vancouver for filming Darren's going to move out of that house and in with Chris. 

Things don't always work out happily in life, and Chris is sure that some of the issues he's just skirted will come back later. He's already thinking of going with a new publishing company when he finishes this book series, or maybe taking the advice he gave Darren and just... starting his own. He's recommitted to the show now but they all agree that another two years and the stories will probably have all been told. They'll all be ready for something new by then. 

Chris can't wait to see where this road leads next.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now go check out ['s amazing ](http://kobean.tumblr.com)[Shadow Grove photoset](http://kobean.tumblr.com/post/119462324917/crisscolfer-au-shadow-grove-is-in-its-fourth) on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> [Reblog on tumblr.](http://alittledizzy.tumblr.com/post/118827891170/fic-shadow-grove-1-8)


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